


Here Comes the Sun

by MonPetitTresor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angels are Dicks, Angst and Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Dean Takes Care Of Sam, Demons, Dickbag brothers, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechanics of grace, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Possession, Psychological Trauma, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Cage, Torture, Trigger Warnings, gabriel is a good bro, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: For as long as Dean could remember, his little brother had had nightmares. There might’ve been a time early on – before their lives changed, before Mom was taken away, before everything – when Sammy slept through the night, but it was so long ago Dean couldn’t remember anymore. Now, it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. The grass is green. The Impala is amazing. And Sam has nightmares.But what happens when it starts to look like those nightmares might be more than just nightmares? As Sam and Dean set out together to try and find their missing father, they’re going to find themselves on an entirely different path. One that’s going to test their brotherhood to its very limits. When Sam’s powers start to kick in, and his nightmares grow worse, and they find themselves caught up in a grudge match as old as time itself, the only thing they can do is cling on to one another and try to face head on what’s coming for them. Maybe, with the help of a few old friends, and some surprise new ones, they might just make it through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I owe so much thanks to @theriverscribe for helping me with this fic. Thank you so much for giving me the motivation and drive to do this, and for holding my hand through so much of it xD You've practically co-written this fic, you know lol
> 
> I hope you guys like this. It's a bit different, and I know the tags probably give some things away. But I hope you like this one :)

For as long as Dean could remember, his little brother had had nightmares. There might’ve been a time early on – before their lives changed, before Mom was taken away, before _everything_ – when Sammy slept through the night, but it was so long ago Dean couldn’t remember anymore. Now, it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. The grass is green. The Impala is amazing. And Sam has nightmares.

He’s never been able to tell them exactly what they’re about. The best that Dean’s ever been able to get is that they make Sam feel cold and alone. Usually after he has one, he needs to cling for a while, and he needs to be reassured that there’s someone with him and he’s okay. Though Dean’s eleven now and _way_ too big to be curling up with his baby brother, or letting seven year old Sammy cling to him like a monkey, late at night when Sam wakes up screaming and shivering and there’s no one there to see them, he still lets his little brother climb into bed with him and he holds him close and tight as Sam shivers and shakes and sobs out broken words in a made up language none of them understand.

They come at least twice a week. Some of them are worse than the others. Some, it only takes a little bit and Sam’s fine, back asleep against Dean’s chest. Others, it can take hours of rocking him and shushing him and singing to him until he finally calms down again, though on those occasions he doesn’t go back to sleep.

John - doesn’t have the patience to deal with it. When he’s actually there when they happen, he’s never been afraid to scoop Sam up and try to hold him, but he doesn’t have the patience to take his time like Dean does. He doesn’t know how to slowly coax Sammy back to reality. He doesn’t know that Sam doesn’t like to be held down, and he doesn’t like having his back touched when he’s like that, but he loves having his hair scratched at. So even when he was there and he tried, it always ended up with him passing Sam back and the two boys curling up together in bed once more.

For a while, their Dad seemed worried about Sam’s dreams. Dean wasn’t sure why. But Dad had pulled out a tape recorder and recorded the words Sam kept mumbling, and he’d had them go to see some lady they’d never met before. Sam hadn’t liked her all that much, which had been enough for Dean, really, cause Sammy liked _everyone_.

Whatever the lady had said, Dean never knew. He just knew that his father sort of left it alone after that, and he seemed a lot less worried than before. Whatever.

The boys had their system for these things and it worked for them. They didn’t need John or anyone else getting in the way. Dean knew how to handle them. He could even go so far as to predict when they’d come. Unlike other nightmares, these didn’t seem to happen after really bad days. No, they seemed to hit when Sam had really _good_ days. Like his brain had to take the good stuff and find some way to ruin it.

So, when a few days had gone by without a nightmare, and Sammy came home from school bouncing and happy about some up-and-coming play thing his class was going to get to do, plus the gold star he’d gotten on his picture, Dean knew what was coming.

John was out, going to check out a few things, and there was no telling when he’d be back. He could potentially find something to solve the hunt or get stuck researching or watching something all night long. Dean never knew. Nor did he care all that much tonight. It just made it easier for Dean to get himself ready. He waited until Sam was fully asleep, his tiny body curled up in the bed they were sharing this time around, and then he went about getting their room ready. Extra blankets were pulled out of the closet and set on the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed, right between their bed and John’s. A bottle of water was added there was well. Then he locked the door, checked all the salt lines, grabbed the shotgun, and he set himself up in bed right at Sammy’s side. Sometimes he could get lucky enough to catch the bad dreams as they started and slowly soothe him back down. Most of the time, he could only be there when Sam finally woke up. But if he was there at his side he could make sure that Sam didn’t hurt himself. Sometimes, with the really bad ones, he’d had to stop his brother from clawing his skin off, scratching at his arms, his face, reaching to claw at his back. Whatever the hell these dreams were, they terrified his little brother, and Dean hated them for it.

He was still in his watchful position when the first signs started to show. Dean watched his brother as Sam’s body started to curl in on itself. When he reached out, his skin was cool to the touch. That happened every time he had these dreams. He turned ice cold.

“Hey, Sammy. Sammy.” Dean stroked his hand over his baby brother’s face, up into his curls. _He really needs a haircut_. The thought was an absent one as he threaded his fingers through the curls just enough that he could get his fingers against Sammy’s scalp in a gentle scritch-scratch that soothed him down a little, though not for long.

Next came the shakes. They started in his hands, which were pressed to his chest and then spread through the rest of him. If Dean tried to pick him up now, he’d risk getting a little fist to the face, and for all that he was small Sam packed a pretty mean punch when he wanted.

After the shakes came the whimpers, and Dean hated those. He hated them worse than the screams.

With the whimpers, he caught the first hint of the gibberish that his brother mumbled, the broken words that held no real meaning to them. They poured past his lips in a hoarse whisper that was interrupted only by whimpers and soft, shuddery breaths. Still, Dean kept his hand in Sammy’s hair, knowing that he couldn’t do more. Not yet. _Not yet. Just a little more. Come on, Sammy, a little more and I can get you out of there. Come on._

Waking Sammy too early resulted in fists and feet flying, and it made it harder to drag him back to the present afterwards. It could take all day sometimes and they just didn’t have that luxury. That meant that Dean had to force himself to sit still as Sammy’s nightmare got worse and worse until he ripped himself out of it, the same as he always did, with a gasp and a scream that tore apart Dean’s heart each time he had to hear it.

He was there the instant that Sam shot up in bed. Before his little brother even finished moving Dean was already there reaching for him. “I gotcha, Sammy. It’s me, Dean. I’m right here and I gotcha.”

Whatever Sammy cried out made no sense to him. But as his brother melted in against him, tiny little fists – too tiny, too small – curling into the front of his shirt, one word broke through it all and it was one that Dean would always be able to recognize, no matter the tone it was said in. “ _De’n_.”

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s me.” Dean curled his one arm around Sam and dragged the blankets in close with the other. Though the kid was barely awake, he was already plastering himself to Dean, and that was normal, that was good. Dean could handle this part. He hated the first part of things where he couldn’t do anything but wait. The rest of it, though. That, he could handle. Even if it wasn’t much at least he was able to do _something_. “I gotcha, little brother. I’m right here.”

They went on like that for a while, Dean whispering reassurances while Sam mumbled incoherently against Dean’s chest. He was almost glued to his big brother’s side, hands fisted in his shirt and tiny little body tight against him, making all the tremors that much more noticeable. Dean got another blanket and added it around them.

As Sam shivered again and tried to press impossibly closer, Dean grabbed the next blanket and added that one as well. Then he pulled Sammy close, making sure not to touch his back, until Sam was lying mostly on top of him. Once he had him settled in, he went back to scratching at his head, and he started the part of their routine that always soothed Sam the most. “Here comes the sun,” Dean sang, low and soft, his cheek pressing against Sammy’s curls. “Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right.”

The kids at school would’ve laughed their asses off at the sight of big, bad Dean Winchester (Or Wesson or Smith or whatever name they were using this week) curled up in bed with his brother on his chest, singing the Beatles. But it worked, and Dean would deck any one of them that dared thing any part of this was funny.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath and kept singing, his voice soft and for Sam’s ears alone. “Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right.”

When Dean was little, his Mom always sang “Hey Jude” to him to help him calm down after nightmares, or when she was rocking Sammy to sleep. But once she was gone, Dean tried to do it for his brother, he tried to give him that little bit of their Mom, and he just couldn’t make the words pass his lips. Every time he tried, his voice froze up in his throat. So, he found them a new song. _Their_ song. One that was just for him and Sam. “Hey Jude” would always be special to him, and it would always make him think of his Mom, but “Here Comes the Sun”, that belonged to him and Sam and no one else.

“Little darlin’, the smiles returning to the faces.” He slid his hand down, brushing his fingers over Sam’s cheek, and though he didn’t get a smile he did get a little twitch of Sam’s lips that was _almost_ a smile, and that was a good sign that Sam was trying to come back. Dean smiled for him. “Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right.”

Little by little, the trembles faded away into nothing, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away. He stopped white-knuckling his grip on Dean’s shirt and instead kept his usual loose fist, the same as he’d done since he was a baby. Dean changed from singing to humming and he rocked just the slightest bit in a motion that had never failed to put Sam to sleep.

Hours later, when John returned to the room, he allowed a small smile at the sight of his boys twined together and holding on to each other. The life he’d created for them here meant that they really didn’t have anyone else to rely on except for one another. There were times he looked at them, at their bond, and he was grateful for it because he knew it meant the boys would always look out for one another and keep each other safe. But then there were times like this that he looked at them and he hated himself just the slightest bit for what he’d done to them. If Mary could see him now, see how her boys were being raised, she’d lay him out flat and he’d deserve it. Sammy – sweet little Sammy – was growing up way too fast, and Dean – the kid who he used to call Dean-Machine and fly through the air like an airplane – was already an adult in a child’s body. He was a hell of a kid, and he was going to grow up to be an amazing man and a fantastic hunter.

As if to prove that, he caught a glimpse of sharp green eyes as they snuck a look through long lashes. His entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed.

John gave Dean a reassuring smile and waited until his boy’s eyes drifted closed again before he made his way to the bathroom. No, Mary wouldn’t be happy with how her boys were being raised, but it was all John knew to keep them safe. That was his job. Keeping them safe. No matter what it took.


	2. Chapter 2

Though the nightmares never went completely away, they did lessen as he got older, tapering off until they happened maybe once a month. No matter how old Sam got, though, Dean was always there to help him through them. He didn’t let their age or anything create any sort of awkwardness. Not when it came to taking care of Sammy. There was nothing in the world that Dean treated as more important.

When Sam went to Stanford, it was the first time in his life that he’d ever had to deal with those nightmares alone. He found it was so much harder to drag himself up on his own. There were no hands there to hold him, no fingers scratching at his hair, no soft voice singing in his ear. None of the things that he’d counted on for so long to keep him steady.

Even when he and Jess moved in together, she tried her best to help him but… it sounded sad, thinking it, but she just _wasn’t Dean_. Sam hated how childish that made him sound. Likely, Dean would laugh and ruffle his hair and call him a girl, though Sam bet he’d secretly be pleased by it. Dean liked being needed. He liked caring for his family, in his own gruff sort of way.

Eventually, Sam learned to cope with the dreams. He managed to somehow keep the screams locked inside, which helped make sure he didn’t wake Jess. Once he was awake, he’d drag his shaking body out of bed. Sometimes, if it was bad, he’d go to the shower and put it on hot and then just sit under the spray until the chills went away. Other times he’d bundle up in all the spare blankets and the old t-shirt he’d stolen from Dean and he’d curl up on the couch and ride it all out. It wasn’t easy, but he managed it.

And then the dreams got replaced by other ones. Dreams of Jess, of her lying on the ceiling just like he’d always imagined his mother moments before the fire consumed is nursery. Sam told himself it was just his overactive mind playing tricks on him. Dean always said that Sam had too active an imagination.

He believed it, too, or at least he told himself he did, right up until the moment that it came true.

Three weeks back out on the road with Dean and Sam had yet to chase those nightmares away. They still haunted him now that she was gone. Now that he knew they were real. He hadn’t dreamed about some fear – he’d dreamed the _future_.

That was more terrifying than anything else.

But his brain must’ve decided that, while it still wanted to torture him, it was time to mix it up again and throw him back to the terrors of his childhood and dreams he could never remember.

Sam woke from his sleep with a silent scream caught tight in his throat. Even as he shot up in bed, familiar hands were there to catch him, one on his shoulder and the other one curling around the side of his head. Part of Sam wanted to yank away from that touch while the rest of him wanted to melt down into it. Through the freezing cold and the absolute terror - _alone, so alone, so cold, help me please don’t leave me here i’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY please please don’t leavemealonedon’tleavemalone -_ he felt himself getting pulled in against something warm and steady and _safe_.

“It’s all right, Sammy, you’re all right, I got you.” That voice was right by his head, lips pressing against his hair, and Sam wondered when he’d leaned gotten close enough that he could press his face against slightly rough skin – _his throat –_ and bury his face against skin and a cotton t-shirt that smelled like home. The hand on his face had slid back into his hair and he felt the same scratches that had soothed him so many times before. “That’s it, yeah, you remember how this goes. I didn’t think you had these anymore, bud. You never mentioned it, and I promise we’re gonna have ourselves a talk about that tomorrow. But not right now. Right now, let’s get comfortable. If these are anything like your old ones, we’re gonna be here for a while.”

That heat moved away and Sam whimpered, not wanting it to go. Words spilled from his lips, a plea, and Dean shushed him gently. “I’m not going anywhere, bud. Just getting us some more blankets before you turn into a Samsicle, that’s all. Come on, scooch back…there we go.”

The arms holding him moved and drew him down onto something soft. Then Sam was curled up against a familiar warmth and he found he was free to fist his hands in that shirt, to press his ear against a heartbeat he knew he’d know anywhere, anytime. Then, ever so softly, a familiar voice began to sing.

It was the song more than anything else that did it. That song that no one else ever sang to him. That no one even knew the importance of. Sam held on to those lyrics and let them slowly steer him out of the dark and the cold and back to reality.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found a familiar sight in front of him. His brother’s shirt, with the little amulet right there in plain view. It was the same thing he’d seen countless times after he came out of one of those dreams.

With that unerring ability of his to understand Sam at all times, Dean seemingly sensed that Sam had opened his eyes because he stopped his singing and smoothed a hand over his hair. “Back with me, buddy?”

“Yeah.” Sam croaked out. Embarrassment tried to creep in and he ducked his head down a little. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good.”

Dean didn’t move, though. He just kept petting at Sam’s hair. With each stroke of his hand, the embarrassment faded away a little more. Dean was acting just as easy about this as he always had. It made it hard for Sam to feel bad about it. He sighed out the last of his tension and just let himself melt against Dean’s chest.

After a few minutes of just lying there, Dean finally spoke again, though he kept his voice soft. “I didn’t think you still had these.”

“I haven’t for a while.” Not as long as Dean was probably thinking, but long enough that he’d thought maybe they were gone, replaced with a new kind of horror. Apparently he was wrong. “Did I still…?”

“Jabber at me? Yeah.”

They’d never been able to figure out why on earth Sam felt the need to babble in some strange, made up gibberish each time he woke up.

The hand in his hair shifted again and Dean’s nails started to scratch at his scalp once more. Just like always, Sam relaxed into that touch. Even more so when Dean started to hum. It didn’t take long before he felt sleep start to tug at him again. This time, there was no ice waiting for him, no dreams of darkness and being alone. There was just peace, and the steady thump of his brother’s heart.

* * *

It seemed like once the dreams started up again, they weren’t going to let him go. Over the next few weeks they came back with a vengeance. More than that, though - the other dreams came. Dreams of things he shouldn’t be able to know. Like the spirits that took them back to their old house, back to their hometown. And then next, the dreams of Max. Max Miller. Dreams that became more than just dreams - they became visions, and they were happening now that he was awake, too.

The fact that he was dreaming things that came true scared the hell out of him. The fact that all the things he was dreaming about were connected to Yellow Eyes – that _terrified_ him.

Dean was there for him, trying to be supportive every step of the way, but there was only so much that his brother could do. He wasn’t the one having these weird, psychic dreams. He wasn’t the one that was seeing people _die_. How was this okay? Why wasn’t Dean as freaked out about it as Sam was?

It felt like any time Sam went to sleep anymore, he was going to be greeted with a nightmare of some sort. Be it one of these new, freaky dreams, or those old dreams that had haunted him his entire life. Those ones were worse, in a way. At least he knew what the other ones were. At least he could do something about those visions even if it seemed he always got them too late to help anyone. Those other dreams, they made no sense. There was nothing he could do to stop them and nothing he could do to change them. They were just… terrifying.

Sam didn’t stop to think about what it might mean, these new powers he was developing as well as his old dreams. Not until the day he shot up in bed with a sharp gasp and found himself staring at a room full of floating objects.

Horror had Sam’s eyes going wide. Everything around him was – _floating_. The lamp, the nightstand, the chairs, the little broken table, their duffle bags, even the dirty laundry that had been left lying on the floor. All of it was floating just a foot or so off the ground. As Sam stared around the room, he heard the bathroom door snap open and Dean call out a worried “Sammy?” just seconds before he entered the room. His eyes took everything in with one sweep and it was obvious what conclusion he came to. Dean’s first thought was spirit – in a situation like this, Sam couldn’t blame him. But even as Dean darted towards the bag that held their guns and salt, Sam let out another startled gasp as a nauseating headache flared to life, and all the floating objects trembled before dropping to the ground with a crash.

Sam curled in on himself and clutched at his head as the headache spiked. He heard Dean swear softly and then he was right there, right on the bed in front of him, and familiar hands were pushing his hair back from his face and gently cradling his head. “Sammy?”

The pained whimper Sam let out was just a little bit pathetic sounding.

“Okay, okay. Give it a second and it’ll die down, just like the other ones.” Dean murmured, low and reassuring.

It was true, too. Sam knew that. He knew that the migraines he got from his visions never stuck around like a real migraine did. Though, this one hadn’t come from a vision. It had come after a nightmare – after he’d made things in their room freaking _float_. Who knew how long it would last? This was uncharted territory for them. They had no idea what they were doing here or what to even expect.

However, the headache seemed to work the same for this as it did for the visions. Little by little it started to fade away until it was nothing more than a dull throb in his temples. When it finally subsided that low, Sam was able to sit back a bit and actually open his eyes. Once he did, he almost wished he hadn’t. Dean was still sitting in front of him and there was so much concern in his eyes it made Sam’s stomach twist. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Dean asked, sounding bewildered.

“Like I’m some kind of, of freak!” Sam spat out. He pulled back a little more, moving as if to rise from the bed, only to have Dean catch hold of his arm and pull him back down.

His older brother was glaring at him when Sam turned to look at him. It was a much more familiar expression. “Hey! You’re not a freak, Sammy.”

“Oh yeah?” A bitter laugh tumbled past Sam’s lips. Lifting a hand, he waved it around the room at the mess his apparently newfound _powers_ had made. “What do you call all that, Dean? That’s not _normal_! First the dreams, then I get the visions during the day, and now this? I don’t want this! What if I…” His voice caught and he couldn’t finish that sentence. What if he got stronger? What if he ended up like Max Miller, who let his rage control him and killed off his family? What if these powers, they came from Yellow Eyes, just like he was afraid of? What if there was something _wrong_ with him?

The grip on his arm tightened and Dean gave it a sharp shake. “Quit it!” He snapped. “Now you look at me. You are _not_ gonna end up like that kid, you hear me? I don’t care where these powers came from or any of that. You’re not gonna end up like him. I won’t let you. Got it?”

There was such certainty in Dean’s voice. Like he was so sure that what he said was right. It was a certainty that had carried Sam through childhood. So long as Dean said it, it had to be true, and he’d always believed it with the unwavering faith of a child. But they were both older now and they knew better. Dean’s word wasn’t law. Just because he said something, that didn’t make it true.

Yet, as Sam sat there, terrified and trying not to show it, he couldn’t help but reach out and hold on to that old belief. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his body down into the bed. Almost against his will, he leaned into Dean’s touch and let it draw upwards, shifting until his brother had an arm around. Tucked against his side, Sam whispered the fears he couldn’t say anywhere else. “What’s happening to me?”

Dean’s arm tightened around him. “I don’t know.” The words sounded painful, like he couldn’t seem to believe he was saying them. “But we’ll figure it out, kiddo. We always do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Unfortunately, life got in the way, as it so often does. Figuring out Sam’s newfound powers had to be pushed to the side when their father came back into their lives. Everything else was forgotten underneath their hunt for the Colt, and the familiar fights with John, and the tension that always seemed to be there when their family was together. Then… then came the wreck, and they almost lost Dean, and they _did_ lose John, and nothing was ever the same again.

Suddenly, too much of their lives was spiraling out of their control. John was gone – they were pretty sure he’d made a deal to save Dean’s life, and it was eating Dean alive – and then they met Andy, a kid who had the ability to talk anyone into doing anything he wanted. Sure, Andy seemed to have turned out okay, but his twin brother hadn’t, and Sam was getting more and more worried. What had Yellow Eyes done to them? What was wrong with them?

Then there had been finding out the truth of John’s last words, and the resulting panic that came from it. Save him or kill him, John had said, and the very idea terrified Sam worse than anything else had so far. Was there really something so fundamentally wrong with him that John had known it, all this time, and had been watching him, waiting to see if, what? If he went dark side? It only made Sam’s fear worse. Fear of what was going on – and fear of himself.

Sam’s powers, whatever they were, they seemed to be growing with each passing day. The visions were getting stronger and they happened less while he was asleep and more often while he was awake. It became common to find things levitating in the room when Sam woke up from a bad dream.

Then, in the middle of a case, a ghost sent Sam and Dean both flying, knocking their guns out of their hands, and Sam didn’t remember doing anything in particular, but the gun suddenly flew over into his hand and he was able to shoot the spirit away, at least briefly.

He paid for it afterwards with a massive headache that wouldn’t go away for hours. They had to hole up in their room until it finally went away.

That was the first time since Max Miller’s house that Sam used his telekinesis while awake.

Dean didn’t like to talk about it. As if by pretending that it wasn’t there, or that it was something completely normal and not worth talking about, that might make it less scary. Less real.

But Sam had had enough running. When they were at Bobby’s, the both of them recovering from Sam’s possession by Meg and everything that had come after, the younger Winchester decided that enough was enough. It was time to talk to _someone_. And Bobby had always been someone that they could trust. He’d never struck Sam as the black-and-white kind of hunter. Just because something was different didn’t mean that it was evil.

Sam waited until dinner was over and they were all settled down out on the porch with a couple of beers before he finally brought it up. He hadn’t told Dean ahead of time. His brother would try and stop him, he knew, and Sam couldn’t let him. He needed to talk to someone other than Dean about this. Someone that he was sure wouldn’t try to pull a gun and shoot him on sight. “Bobby? Can I, uh… can I talk to you about something?” Sam asked hesitantly.

His tone had the other two looking towards him immediately. Bobby looked worried, while Dean looked surprised. That surprise was replaced with understanding as Dean seemingly realized what it was that Sam was about to do. “Sammy…”

“We need to tell someone, Dean.” Sam said, cutting him off. He clenched his hands around his bottle of beer and dropped his gaze. “Maybe he’ll be able to make more sense of it than we can.”

“What’s going on, boys?”

Drawing in a careful breath, Sam set out to explain things and hoped desperately he wasn’t making a mistake. “So, I’ve uh, I’ve been having these… visions, lately.”

He swore he could _feel_ Bobby’s surprise. “Visions?”

“Yeah.” It was hard to speak past the lump in his throat. Closing his eyes, Sam twisted his hand around the neck of the bottle and explained all about the visions he’d been having since before Jess had died. He didn’t leave any of it out, walking Bobby through everything while Dean listened on. Then he explained about the telekinesis. “First, I just… I did it at the Miller house when I got that vision of Dean being shot. I panicked and I just, I _pushed_ , and I got out. But then they, they started happening when I’m sleeping.”

“He’s having those nightmares again.” Dean chimed in for the first time. He was sitting on the steps near them, leaning back against the railing and watching them both with a look that, when Sam snuck a peek up, showed just how tired he was. “Waking up screaming, babbling at me. They’re coming a couple times a week. So, you know, heads up for that. But about halfway through them now, the room starts rattling around him. Clothes, chairs, nightstands, lamps – you name it. I can tell when he’s gonna shoot up in bed now cause everything just lifts up, and it crashes back down once I’m there to grab him.”

“Well, hell.” Bobby drawled out.

His choice of words had Sam wincing. Taking a shaky breath, the younger Winchester looked up at the man who had been friend and Uncle, a surrogate father, even. “Bobby, what’s wrong with me?”

“Aint nothing wrong with you, boy.” Came the immediate answer. But Bobby also sat back in his chair and he had that thoughtful look he always got when thinking out a problem. “You boys thinking this has got something to do with the demon?”

Dean sighed. “That’s the best we can figure. All the other kids that’re connected, they’ve all had powers, too.”

“Yeah, but just one.” Sam pointed out. “None of them had more than one, like I do.”

“There anything else going on?”

Nothing that Sam could think of. But when he looked at Dean, he saw something on his brother’s face, a look that was there and gone again. “Dean.” He was hiding something. Sam was sure of it. That surety solidified when Dean wouldn’t look at him. Sitting up straighter, Sam turned all his focus onto his brother. “ _Dean_.”

After living in one another’s pockets for almost their entire lives, the two of them practically had their own language. Sam didn’t have to say anything more than Dean’s name. His brother heard it all, and he hunched down a little. Then he sighed. When he looked up again he had the air of someone bracing for trouble. A second later, Sam found out why. “When you first wake up and your eyes open, they sort of… glow.”

Even Bobby looked stunned by that.

“They glow?” Sam repeated. “You… you never told me that.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “Yeah, well, I knew you’d freak out about it.”

“You’re damn right I’d freak out about it. My eyes are _glowing_ , Dean, and you didn’t think I needed to know that?”

There was no chance for Dean to respond. Bobby sat forward and waved a hand through the air to cut right into the middle of their argument. “All right, all right, calm it down, the both of ya. Shouting at each other aint gonna get us anywhere.” That said, he looked down at Dean. “Anything else we need to know?”

Thinking for a second, Dean shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”

“What color?” Sam asked, his quiet voice startling them. When they turned towards him, he lifted his gaze and made himself meet Dean’s eye. “What color are they?”

They all knew instantly what he was asking here. Dean’s eyes went wide with realization and then horror. “Not yellow.” He rushed the words out. His hand twitched on the bottle as if he wanted to reach out as well, though he restrained himself. “They’re not yellow, Sammy. They’re… well, they’re this sort of weird… whitish-blue color.”

That – that wasn’t what Sam was expecting. He’d thought yellow, maybe black. But, blue? White-blue? “That doesn’t make any sense.” Sam said slowly. He tilted his head to the side as he tried to think through all the lore he knew. “Do we even know anything that has glowing eyes like that?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Bobby admitted. “But I’ll look around, see what I can find. Whatever this is, it’s obvious it don’t hurt you more’n a few headaches, right?” He waited for their nods before continuing. “Then I’d say we look into it, but don’t worry about it too much yet. Don’t let it eat at ya, Sam. We’ll get it figured out.”

Coming from anyone else that probably wouldn’t have carried as much reassurance to it as it did. But this was Bobby, and Sam trusted him. He trusted that the man had their best interest in mind and that he really would look into it. For the first time in a while, Sam felt himself actually be able to smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”

* * *

The trio stayed out on the porch for a little while longer. Sam was the first to break, heading inside to go to bed. The nightmares made him not want to sleep, but at the same time he felt like he was getting less and less rest the more that they happened.

Dean, who knew they were due for one since it’d been a few days since the last, didn’t bother going in with him. He’d give it about a half an hour and then go in and start gathering supplies so he could be ready when it finally did go down. For the moment, he stayed out on the porch, and he waited long enough to be sure that Sam wasn’t just inside but was upstairs as well and out of hearing range. Then he turned his sharp focus to Bobby. “You really think we’re gonna find something, Bobby?”

The older man didn’t look all that surprised at Dean’s question. Likely he’d known that Dean was waiting to talk to him without Sam around. Reaching down, he grabbed another beer from the bucket they’d brought out. “Yeah. I aint saying it’s gonna be easy, but we’ll find something, Dean. We’re not gonna let anything happen to your brother.”

“This is really getting to him.” Twisting a little, Dean looked up at the house, towards where he knew his little brother would be getting ready for bed. Even with their time apart, and even with all the little ways they’d changed, there were still so many things that were the same. Dean knew that Sam would be up there brushing his teeth right now, dressed down to sweats and a t-shirt, hair brushed back and face clean. It was the same routine that Dean had taught him all those years ago. He could remember standing in front of motel sinks, teaching Sam just like Mom had taught him, showing him how to hum the ABC’s to himself, once while he did his top teeth and once while he did the bottoms. It’d been a good way to make sure that he got it all done while also helping him practice his alphabet.

Dean broke out of his memories when Bobby snorted and said “Looks like it’s gettin’ to you, too.”

Sighing, Dean ran a hand through his hair. Yeah, it was getting to him. Of course it was getting to him. Something was happening to his brother and he didn’t understand it. “I’m worried about him. Worried he’s gonna break under it all. He’s barely sleeping anymore, an when he does he’s got nightmares that he still can’t tell me what they’re about. He doesn’t eat as much. He’s got almost a constant headache. This thing – it’s hurtin’ him, Bobby, and I don’t know how the hell to help him.”

“All you can do is what you been doing. Stick with him an help him through it. You boys just leave the research up to me. I’ll find us something.”

The idea of just leaving the research for something so important to someone else didn’t sit right with Dean. Not when it came to Sam. That kid was his responsibility. It was his job to take care of him. _Great job I’m doing at that right now. Just awesome_ , he thought scathingly. He couldn’t help Sam get rid of the nightmares or visions. He had no idea what to do about the telekinesis or the eye-glowing or _any_ of it. It felt _wrong_ to not be able to do anything for him. To not be able to make it better. All he was able to do was be there after the nightmares, and that felt most of the time like a case of too-little-too-late.

Sighing, Dean pushed at his hair again and then rubbed his hand over his face. If it was all he could do, at least he was going to make damn sure he did it right. The chance of Sam having nightmares tonight was pretty damn big. He needed to go and get ready for when it happened.

Dean pushed himself up off the step and straightened up, bones cracking a little as he went. “Thanks, Bobby. I’m gonna go get ready for when things hit. It’s been a while, so he’s probably gonna have one tonight.” He gave the man a half grin with only part of his usual good humor. “Just ignore it if things start floating.”

“You got it.” Bobby said.

With one last breath to prepare himself, Dean squared his shoulders and headed inside. Time to go get ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys are liking this so far! Don't forget to let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t get as long to recuperate at Bobby’s as they’d been hoping. A case called them back out on the road a week later, and then another case after that, and then they were pretty well healed and nothing else had changed so there was no point in going back. Not when they could find another case. So they went on, the same as they always did, doing the only thing they knew how to do while they tried to figure out everything else.

That was how they ended up pulling into the town of Springfield, Ohio, where a professor had apparently committed suicide by jumping out a window.

It wasn’t much to go on, that was for sure, and Sam made that clear to Dean as they walked up the steps of Crawford Hall where the professor had both worked and died. “I’m just saying, Dean. It’s pretty flimsy.”

“We’ve looked into worse.” Dean pointed out.

Sam tried not to roll his eyes. They had, it was true, but this case – it was just a suicide. The only thing that made it even potentially close to being their kind of thing was the local legend that the building was haunted. They’d come in at first as reporters, canvassing the area and speaking with a bunch of the students at bars – well, Sam asked, he couldn’t vouch for what Dean got up to, nor did he really want to even think about it – and now they were at Crawford Hall to play electricians and see if they could get a peek into the dead professor’s office.

As soon as they stepped through the front door, the hair on Sam’s arms and neck stood up. He swore, for one brief moment, that he could feel the wind blowing over him, but then it was gone and he was left just standing there, staring off into space and wondering what the hell just happened. Dean had paused at his side, eyebrows furrowed down low. “Sam? You all right?” Underneath that were more questions, ones he couldn’t say out loud. Not where people might hear them.

It proved a good choice when suddenly another voice joined in. Sam looked up when someone called out “You boys all right over here?”

Sam swore his brain kind of stalled for a second when he caught sight of the guy walking towards them. There was one brief moment where he couldn’t quite help thinking _Well, hel-lo_ to himself. The guy coming towards them was on the short side, and he was dressed in a janitor’s outfit, but what Sam saw of him was enough to catch his interest. The slightly shaggy, brownish-blond hair, the hint of a smirk at his lips, a body that looked like it was probably in pretty decent shape underneath that jumpsuit while still keeping that just right amount of softness that he’d always liked in his male partners, and when those eyes lifted to his and he caught sight of the almost golden irises, he couldn’t help his own smile. If this weren’t a job, if they’d met almost anywhere else, Sam would’ve happily bought the other man a drink.

As it was, he had to settle for smiling and saying “We’re fine, thanks. Just, ah, just stumbled a little on my way in, that’s all.”

“Gotta be careful of that step.” The guy said, his smirk growing a little more. He stopped in front of them and let his gaze travel over Sam, from his feet straight up to his face, and he made it clear that he was doing more than just making sure he was okay. There was appreciation in his gaze as it landed up on Sam’s face. “That’d be a hell of a long fall.”

Unable to stop himself, Sam snorted. “Wow, I’ve never heard _that_ one before.”

Instead of being bothered by the snark in Sam’s tone, this guy seemed to enjoy it, letting out a laugh that tickled along Sam’s skin. “I like you.” He announced, and he flashed Sam a big smile. “Name’s Loki, yes that’s my actual name, no, I don’t have a brother named Thor, though I did have a goldfish named Thor once.” At the laugh that got him, Loki’s smile grew bigger, and he held his hand out.

The cue was obvious. Sam smiled back and reached out to take Loki’s hand with his much larger one. “I’m Sam,” He got out, right as their hands touched and – _something_ – sparked along his skin, a flash of something both hot and cold, sharp and soft. He looked down at their hands and then up at Loki’s face, but the guy didn’t seem to have noticed it so Sam tried to keep talking and gloss past it, even as he wondered what the hell was going on. “And this is my brother, Dean. We’re electricians who’re supposed to go take a look at wiring up an office that was recently vacated?”

Loki eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. “It’s your lucky night then, kiddo. I’ll show you where you’re supposed to go.”

They let Loki lead the way upstairs to the office. It wasn’t like it was a hardship, walking behind him, and if it wasn’t for Dean elbowing him in the side on their way up he probably would’ve enjoyed the view a whole lot more. As it was, he shot his brother a glare but tried to reign it in. He wasn’t his brother, for God’s sake! He didn’t pick people up whenever he came across them. That had always been Dean’s thing, not Sam’s.

As they reached the office and Loki unlocked it for them, Sam drew in a steadying breath and reminded himself that he was here to work. As attractive as the janitor was, he needed to get some answers out of him. Hopefully good ones. To get them started, he asked “So, how long have you been working here?”

“I've been mopping this floor for six years.” Loki told him. He flicked the light on and stepped inside, allowing them in as well. “There you go, guys.” Curious eyes landed on the EMF reader that Sam pulled out of his pocket, not having expected the man to stick around, and his eyebrows shot up. “What the heck’s that for?”

Sam cursed himself for being stupid enough to pull this out without making sure the guy was looking the other way first, or had already gone. Usually he was a lot more discreet about things. Trying to smile, he shrugged and answered as vaguely as possible. “Just finding the wire in the walls.”

“Huh.” Loki looked like he wasn’t quite sure he believed them. There was an interesting look in his eyes and he had his head tilted in a way that left Sam feeling like he was being studied. But when he spoke again, it was just as casual and just as amused as before. “Not sure why you’re wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good.”

“Why's that?” Dean asked.

Loki raised both eyebrows. “He’s dead.” He said bluntly. The clear ‘duh’ was heard at the end.

“Oh.” Either not bothered by the tone, or not noticing it, Dean kept looking around, trying to project both casual and slightly curious as he did. “What happened?”

Getting answers out of Loki proved to be pretty easy. He had no qualms answering what they asked him and explained not only how the professor had gone out the window - and that he’d been the one to find him – but also that he hadn’t been alone when he’d come up here. That gave them their first solid lead. A girl who’d gone in with the professor and yet hadn’t come back out. It was something worth looking into, anyways. More than they’d had to go on before.

When they finally went to leave, the janitor escorted them back out to the front doors, smiling and chatting the whole way. He had a smile that just sort of made Sam want to grin right along with him. He was tempted – holy hell was he tempted – to ask the guy for his number, or suggest they talk a little more over drinks later. But Sam knew he was already going to get teased enough for the flirting that had happened, he didn’t need to add to it. Besides, he’d never really been the hook-up-and-leave type of guy. He got too attached too easily. That was the last thing that needed to happen while on a case. Inevitably, he was going to have to leave the guy behind. It was just how it was. _Besides_ , Sam reminded himself. _Anything I told him about me would be a lie anyways. That’s not the basis for anything._

Plus, considering everything that tended to happen to him while he slept, it wasn’t exactly smart or even safe for him to be in someone else’s bed right now.

So when they got downstairs and Loki gave him that charming smile, the one that made Sam’s stomach twist in a nice sort of way, he had to fight back his urges and simply settle for a “Thanks for your help” before he let his brother lead him out of the building.

Sure enough, Dean didn’t even wait till they were at the Impala before he started to tease him. “Dude, I think you broke the guy’s heart.” He teased, sneaking a look back at where Loki was still near the doors. The sight only made Dean’s grin bigger as he focused back on Sam. “Why don’t you go back and ask for his number? The way he’s eyeing your ass right now, I bet he’d give it to you.”

Sam very deliberately did not turn around to confirm what Dean was saying. “Just get in the car, Dean.”

Not that that stopped Dean. Even as he slid behind the wheel, he was saying “Come on, Sammy! When was the last time you even got laid?”

“You really think it’s a smart idea for me to be in anyone’s bed right now?” Sam snapped, his voice sharper than he’d intended. “Really?”

He saw as Dean realized what he meant and his brother’s eyes darkened briefly before he forced away whatever it was he was feeling. His smile was just a bit off, but he still grinned anyways at Sam as he started up the car. “No one’s saying you gotta stay afterwards, man.”

Despite himself, Sam found he was rolling his eyes and chuckling just a little. “You’re such a pig.”

As they pulled out and headed onto the road, Sam let the vibrations of the Impala soothe him as they’d done so many times before. He sank down into the seat a little and twisted himself just enough that one knee pressed against the dash while the other leg was able to curl down a little. Not the most comfortable, but he’d become a pro at ways to situate his long legs in almost any car. Once he was settled, he turned to stare sightlessly out the window.

Something strange had happened back there. He didn’t mean his attraction to Loki. He wasn’t ashamed of being attracted to a man or anything like that. No, what his brain focused on was the feelings that he’d gotten as he’d walked into the building. That bit of, fresh air. How for a moment it’d felt like he was standing in a field with the breeze playing over his skin. How, for one brief second, it felt almost like… _home_.

That didn’t make sense, though. Even if these powers of his were letting him _feel_ things – and that thought was frightening enough, to think that he was getting something new, something that reacted to people or whatever around him – what he’d felt from Loki didn’t make sense.

Why had he reacted the way that he had? It was like… like more than just attraction. Like he _knew_ him. Sam finally pinned down that weird, vague feeling in the back of his head he’d barely even noticed until now. That was what he’d felt with Loki. He felt like he already knew the man. Like they’d known each other forever. There’d been an ease there that Sam only ever really found with Dean. So why had he felt that way with a random janitor out in the middle of some town he’d never been to before? It didn’t make any sense. What was it about this guy that made him stand out?

Something told him figuring out the answer was important, though.

* * *

Across town someone else was wondering the same thing.

The being that called itself Loki sat inside his apartment and stared blankly at the wall as his mind ran over everything that had just happened. As soon as the Winchesters had left the campus – and yes, he knew exactly who _those two_ were, thank you very much – he had snapped himself back home to think about what the hell had just happened and what it meant.

There were only two people in all of existence who knew that Loki, the trickster god, was in actuality _Gabriel_ , the archangel. It was a secret he guarded closely. One of the ones that knew the truth was the one that had helped him make his current vessel, the one he was using to keep under the radar and hide from the rest of the Host. The other was a woman he’d met once who had the Sight, strong enough for her to be able to see who he really was.

Being an archangel, Gabriel had more abilities than the average seraph. One of which included the ability to look at humans and see their souls – to know who they were from just a glimpse. The younger angels couldn’t do it. They couldn’t see a soul without actually reaching inside a person and feeling around in there. Archangels were stronger and they could see a whole lot more, just like they could generally _hear_ a whole lot more, too. Thoughts, emotions, things like that weren’t hidden from them. It took a lot of practice to get used to being down on earth and coping with all of it, honestly.

It meant that Gabriel had recognized the hunters as soon as they hit town. Or, at least, he’d recognized _one_ of them. Dean Winchester – the Righteous Man – had blazed like the sun, his soul a brilliant echo of Michael’s glorious fire. There was absolutely no doubt who Dean was. That was Michael’s vessel, the one he was destined to ride in as he fought against their brother in the battle to end all battles.

But the boy with him, the one that he knew logically – and from what he gathered easily in Dean’s rather loud thoughts – was Sam Winchester...he wasn’t _right._

Gabriel should’ve been able to hear the thoughts of the vessel that was destined for his other brother. Considering how close he and Lucifer had been, he probably should’ve been able to pick up on Sam Winchester even more clearly than others. Yet, the boy’s thoughts had been shielded from him. He couldn’t pick them up at all. Even his emotions had been dull and muted as if hidden behind something. And his soul? That was the part that got Gabriel the most of all and had the archangel stirring underneath the pagan god he’d made himself into. There was something that was almost, _hiding_ Sam’s soul from view. When Gabriel had looked closely, he’d caught a faint hint of something, a glow of a light that was muted by the stain of demon blood.

Could it be that the demon blood fed to him as a baby was acting as a sort of shield? Wrapping around his soul, hiding his head, amping up the natural psychic abilities that the Campbell line was known for?

No - that might explain why he couldn’t pick up on the kid’s thoughts and all, since psychics were some of the few that could shelter their thoughts at least a little, but it didn’t explain why Gabriel couldn’t get a clear read on the kid’s soul. It should’ve been shining out of him as bright as Dean’s - if not brighter. Sam was the vessel destined for the Morningstar. Yeah, Lucifer had been corrupted, first by the Mark and then no doubt more by his time in the Cage, but before that he’d been one of Dad’s most glorious. Sam should’ve reflected that. He should’ve been a bright light tainted at the edges by the darkness the demons had put in him in his crib.

So why had Gabriel only glimpsed a hint of light and then a strange sense of something… else?

Gabriel sighed. With one hand, he reached out to the little terrier that had come and curled up against his hip, and he pet over his fur. “It doesn’t make sense.” He told the dog. “It’s not like he got replaced with some creature or something. I know all the creatures on earth and I’d recognize them. So what is it? Some kind of warding or something?” Humans did manage to come up with the strangest of things. There was every chance they’d found some sort of warding to help hide him, maybe from the demon that they were still hunting.

If they had, though, why was just Sam shielded and not Dean as well?

There were a lot of questions and Gabriel wasn’t coming up with any answers. He had a feeling the only way he was going to get them was to watch these two for a while. He’d already planned on doing that; drawing them in the same as he did with any hunters that caught up to him, letting his little game play out for them and letting them ‘catch’ and ‘kill’ him before he moved on to the next town. The fact that neither guy was that bad looking, and Sam was definitely worth a triple-take or three, was just a nice added bonus.

But, this time around it looked like he was going to have to pay a bit more attention. Sam Winchester was a puzzle, one that didn’t make any sort of sense right now, and it was one that Gabriel couldn’t walk away from. He didn’t know why, he just knew that he couldn’t. The moment he and Sam had touched hands back at Crawford Hall and the kid had looked down at him with such blatant interest and warmth, like they were long-time lovers coming together again, Gabriel had known he wasn’t going to be able to just walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

The longer that they stayed here, the stranger everything got. Sam couldn’t make sense of it. The case itself was weird enough all on its own – the professor’s suicide, the frat boy’s alien abduction, and then the scientist killed by, of all things, an alligator in the sewer. Nothing was matching up on this thing. None of those cases looked like they were connected in any way, shape, or form. The only minor connection they could see was that each person who’d been killed – or, violated, in the case of the frat boy – were all, well, _dicks._ Other than that, there was nothing that tied all this together. And in their world, generally things that were supernatural in origin, they all had rituals that they followed. Things were done a certain way. It was just how it was. This, whatever it was, it just didn’t fit anything that they knew.

It didn’t really help matters that he and Dean seemed to be at each other’s throats. Too much stress lately and too much time on the road together had their tempers shorter than normal. Things that might’ve usually been pushed aside were just adding to the general grumpiness they were both feeling. It wasn’t like this was the first time Dean had ever frozen Sam’s laptop on porn, yet it irritated the hell out of him. And stealing Sam’s money because he was so sure that Sam had let the air out of the Impala’s tires? Seriously? Like Sam was stupid enough to do that. Even during prank wars, Dean’s ‘Baby’ was off limits and Sam knew that.

The longer they were in the town, the more that Sam kept getting those same strange feelings he’d gotten in Crawford Hall. It was like there was something here, something that was calling out to him, and some part of him wanted nothing more than to respond to it while the rest of him was busy panicking, wondering what the hell _it_ even was.

If he and Dean hadn’t been so cranky with one another, he might’ve brought it up to his brother and asked him about it. As it was, he didn’t really want to do anything to set Dean off even more.

Dean was the one to suggest they call Bobby in. Honestly, Sam was grateful for it. A cooler head was just what they needed. Bobby had always had a way of helping them straighten their shit out when they went to visit him. His levelheaded nature would come in handy right about now. Maybe with him there, Sam and Dean might be able to get beyond their bickering and finally get the job done.

He’d been sure that Bobby would be able to help them – he hadn’t expected the man to listen to their story and then give them the answer right then and there.

“You got a trickster on your hands.” Bobby told them bluntly.

Dean, asshole that he was, immediately said “That’s what I thought.”

A glare tightened Sam’s features. “What? No you didn’t!” Who did he think he was fooling?

The way that Bobby looked at them clearly let them know what idiots he thought they were being. “I gotta tell you, you guys were the biggest clue. These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight.”

Little things were sliding into place and Sam looked up with realization, catching Dean’s stare. “The laptop.” He said. His brother nodded and added “The tires.”

“It knows you're onto it, and it's been playing you like fiddles.” Bobby told them.

Great. That was just great. This thing was onto them and had been screwing with them right from the start. That was just _perfect_.

“So, what is it?” Dean asked. “Spirit, demon, what?”

Even as he was asking, Bobby was shaking his head. “More like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick.”

“You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator.” Dean said.

Bobby nodded his head. “The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor – deadly pranks, things like that.”

There was something on Dean’s face that had Sam paying a bit more attention. He could see that look there, the one that said Dean was adding pieces together and coming up with something that the rest of them hadn’t. For all Dean liked to pretend he was stupid, he was really far from it. The man was smart. Smarter than a lot of people Sam had known at Stanford. His smarts were just different. “Bobby, what do these things look like?”

“Lots of things, but human, mostly.” Bobby said. He, too, was watching Dean. He was one of the few that knew the brain he hid inside.

Dean shot Sam a look, the worry clear there before he masked it. Whatever he had to say here, it was something he thought Sam wasn’t going to like. But what… oh, no. No, no, no. Sam knew where this had to be going and he could only stare as Dean asked “And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?”

 _Loki_. Of course. It made so much sense. Sam found he wanted to both scream and laugh at the same time. Of course it had to be him! The one person that Sam had found himself attracted to here. Naturally, he ended up being the monster of the week. Hell, he hadn’t exactly worked hard to hide it, had he? He’d even told them his freaking _name_. “He told us who he was.” Sam said flatly. “He introduced himself as Loki.” Was that why he’d felt so, different? There’d been something about him, about touching hands with him or even being in the room with him. Had that been Sam’s powers letting him know there was something strange about this guy? He’d thought it was attraction, but…

The warmth of Dean’s hand settled on Sam’s shoulder. It drew him out of his head and brought to his attention the fact that he’d closed his eyes at some point. When he opened them, he found Dean watching him with sympathy on his face. That look said ‘I’m sorry’ clearer than words.

In response, all Sam could do was nod.

Sorry or not, it was pretty clear Loki was their trickster here, and that meant that they had to go after him. They had to stop him.

So why did Sam’s stomach feel like it was trying to turn itself inside-out at the mere thought of it?

* * *

The boys had figured him out – Gabriel was sure of it. Their little trick that they planned, the fake fight outside, it was good. Almost good enough to get him. If he’d been a regular trickster, he probably would’ve fallen for it. But Dean’s thoughts were just screaming at him and their plan was right out there for Gabriel to pick up on. He didn’t stop them, though. Not when it worked perfectly for him. They could go in, do the final ‘boss fight’ like he did with the hunters he came across, and then he could try and move on and get out of this town and far away from Sam Winchester.

Days they’d been here now and Gabriel still hadn’t figured out what it was about the kid that had made him so _different_. If Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d swear the kid wasn’t even _human_! But if he wasn’t, he was something that could hide almost as well as he could, and that was a terrifying thought. Terrifying enough he should’ve already been long gone.

Yet he sat there in one of the auditorium seats and smirked up at Dean Winchester, who had just turned down one of the girl-illusions that Gabriel had snapped up. “They’re a peace offering.” He called out. _Time to get this show on the road._ Dean’s head snapped towards him and Gabriel grinned at him. “I know what you and your brother do. I’ve been around a while, run into your kind before.” True, all true, if not quite _all_ of the truth.

Dean’s soul was just as stupidly bright as before, and his thoughts – yeah, no thanks. Gabriel zoned those out, at least a little. He didn’t need to watch the porn channel playing in there. The hunter strolled forward, turning his back towards the girls. Likely trying to turn away from temptation. “Well, then you know that I…I can’t let you just keep hurting people.”

Ugh, seriously? Gabriel tipped his head back and groaned. Had these guys been so caught up in things they hadn’t even looked into everything? Or were they really that self-righteous that they thought everything not-human deserved to die? Their Dad had probably raised them that way. Gabriel had just hoped they’d be… better. “Come on!” He drawled out. “Those people got what was coming to them! Hoisted on their own petards. But you and Sam,” He pointed at Dean. “I like you. I do. So, treat yourself, long as you want. Just… long enough for me to move on to the next town.” He pulled a candy bar from his pocket and sat back to watch Dean’s face.

They weren’t going to take it. Even as Dean looked back at the girls, he knew they weren’t going to take it. They were too good at their job. Their destinies aside, Gabriel had heard of them. Or, well, _Loki_ had heard of them. Word of the Winchesters traveled through the supernatural community. Their daddy had been a hell of a hunter. These boys? Word said they were a deadly duo – better than daddy had been.

“Yeah.” Dean almost looked pained as he said, “I don’t think I can let you do that.”

“I don't wanna hurt you. And you know that I can.”

“Look, man, I – I gotta tell you, I dig your style, all right? I mean…” He paused and let out a chuckle. “I do. I mean, whew! The slow dancing alien…”

Though he knew where this was going, Gabriel still couldn’t help but laugh. “One of my person favorites! Yeah.” He’d enjoyed that one. It’d taught the kid a lesson, that was for sure. The things he’d done to some of the pledges… he was lucky that was the only lesson Gabriel had taught him.

Dean nodded his agreement. “Yeah. But, uh, I can't let you go.”

“Too bad.” It really was. If they’d just done a bit more research, been a bit more lax, things might’ve gone better here. He hadn’t been quite sure what he planned on doing with them when they got close, but there’d been a tiny part of him that hoped they’d be a bit different. A bit, more. If only they were more willing to listen. He might’ve been able to help prepare them for the future they had in store. _I tried_ , he told himself. “Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone.”

“Well, I’ll agree with you there.”

Gabriel faked shock when Bobby and Sam came in carrying their stakes tipped in the blood of his last victim. Like he’d thought before, if he were a regular trickster, they would’ve had him here. It was a good plan.

He looked at Bobby Singer, whose thoughts were full of protectiveness for these two boys he considered like sons to him, and whose soul was a nice, steady light, kind of like a porch light that called kids back home. He was steady and safe and _good._

Then he turned to look at Sam, and for one brief instant their eyes connected and Gabriel thought he saw _something_. A flash of something in there, in the backs of his eyes. People said eyes were windows to the soul and they had no idea how right they were. Though souls glowed out of a human, you could always get the best glimpse looking down into their eyes. Gabriel thought he caught just a tiny glimpse in Sam’s eyes of a light that was bright, so damn bright, and his long-buried grace flared up in response to what he saw.

That alone was enough to stun him. He’d kept his grace tamped down for _centuries_. What the hell was it about this kid that had it stirring _now_?

He had to fight to yank himself back on track. He pulled his gaze away from Sam and focused once more on Dean. “That fight you guys had outside – that was a trick?” When Dean smiled and shrugged, Gabriel nodded back at him. “Hm. Not bad. But, you wanna see a real trick?”

All it took was a small flare of power for a man with a chainsaw to appear near Sam and start to attack. At the same time, the brunette on the stage reached out and grabbed Dean, yanking him up onto the stage only to knock him down. Gabriel had to admit, it was kind of satisfying to watch Dean get his ass kicked by two scantily clad girls. It probably did all sorts of things to his fragile male ego that it was two _girls_ who kicked his ass.

He kept a part of his focus on the chainsaw guy. He didn’t want him to actually hurt Sam or Bobby. Not that they knew that.

Bobby got the guy’s attention off of Sam and drew it his way, only to have it come at him a bit more than he’d anticipated. It cut right through his stake and Bobby went crashing back into some seats, trying to get away from the spinning blade.

It was in that moment, as the chainsaw guy advanced on Bobby and the girls knocked Dean down again, that something happened that took all of Gabriel’s plans and threw them right out the window.

Power ripped through the room and sent everything and everyone flying – Gabriel included. The chainsaw guy vanished from in front of Bobby, the girls that had been attacking Dean were flung back far, and Gabriel was knocked back ass-over-heels over a few rows of seats.

Gabriel was frozen in place as he stared up at Sam from the seat where he’d landed. Getting flung like that didn’t hurt him. His vessel didn’t even take any damage from it. No, what kept him in place was shock. He stared at Sam as the kid staggered, a hint of blood dripping from one nostril, those hazel eyes wide with his own shock. It was obvious he hadn’t meant to do it. The real question, though, was _how_ had he done it! Because he definitely shouldn’t have been able to. Not like that.

That was – that was _grace_. Gabriel stared in open shock at Sam. The demon blood had mostly masked it, but Gabriel had felt what was underneath it. He knew what that was. There was no mistaking that tiny flare of grace underneath it all. How in Dad’s name had Sam gotten access to _grace_?

A horrifying thought had Gabriel’s eyes going wider. He knew about the plan to have a demon feed Sam demon blood as a baby as a part of their master plan. If one of Lucifer’s followers had been the one to feed Sammy demon blood, could they have been stupid enough to use one of the _Fallen_ to do it? There’d been angels that had rebelled with Lucifer. They were still down there in the pit as far as Gabriel knew. He hadn’t seen any topside in the last few centuries. If one of them had been the one to feed Sam… there was a small, tiny chance that the blood had been tainted by the grace of a fallen angel. Sam was a vessel, he was meant to hold grace. It would explain why the drops hadn’t killed him, and it would explain how he had these kinds of powers.

The thought made Gabriel sick. Bad enough that Sam had been force-fed demon blood to begin with. To think that it was tainted by one of Gabriel’s brothers who had Fallen so far, it made his vessel’s stomach churn.

“How’d you do that?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Pushing up on the seats, he kept his eyes on Sam, who really wasn’t looking too good. The kid had gone pale and a few more drops of blood had dripped from his nose.

Dean was already moving towards him, dropping down off the stage and hurrying towards his brother. He kept track of Gabriel as he did, yet he went straight to Sam’s side. “Sammy?”

“I’m fine.” Sam said shakily.

“Sure you are.” Gabriel drawled out. He rose to his feet and made his way down the row, towards the brothers. When it looked like Dean was going to put himself between them, Gabriel rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Dean and Bobby both appeared on the bed on stage, neither one able to move from there. It left Gabriel free to make his way towards Sam, who was watching him cautiously. All plans on running away were pushed back for the moment. He needed to get a look at this kid. He had to know what the hell was going on. “That was quite a neat trick you had there, kiddo. I’m impressed.”

Sam, smart kid that he was, took a step back when Gabriel got close. “Gee, thanks.”

The dry words made Gabriel chuckle. Even when faced with something he knew he couldn’t win against, he didn’t back down completely. The trickster could admire that. “So tell me, how’d you manage it?” Maybe Sam knew something about his powers. Not that Gabriel really thought that Sam would tell him or anything like that. It was worth a try, though.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “Do you really think I’m going to answer that?”

Like he’d said – smart kid. Gabriel’s smile grew despite himself. He found himself liking Sam a lot more than he’d anticipated, and he told him just that. “You know, I like you a lot more than I thought I would.” He took a step closer, tilting his head so he could look up at the giant a bit better. The attraction that had been there between them the first time they’d met was there again now. A nice, warm buzz through Gabriel’s vessel. A flash of heat in Sam’s eyes. Moving in just a bit closer, Gabriel let his smile shift into a smirk.

He was rewarded with another flash of heat, though Sam tried to smother it. “What do you want?”

Wasn’t that a loaded question? One that, honestly, Gabriel wasn’t even sure he could answer at the moment. What did he want? Watching Sam and trying to figure him out was one thing. Being attracted to him was another. He couldn’t let that second one influence the first. What he needed to focus on was figuring out what the hell was going on with Sam Winchester.

With that in mind, he pulled his Loki persona around himself a little more and let humor bleed into his expression. “I was going to let this whole thing play out at first. I do it all the time for hunters. Hang out, let them think they caught me, let them kill me. Or, well, an illusion of me. Not that those stakes could hurt me. Bonus of being an actual god, not just a trickster.” He let his smirk grow even more at the way Sam’s eyes went wide. “But now… now I think it’s time to change the game plan.” Lifting one hand, Gabriel let his finger trail over Sam’s chest, amused by the way he froze for just a second at the touch before jerking back. Chuckling, he let his hand drop. “You intrigue me. I’ve always liked a good puzzle.”

To Sam’s continued surprise, Gabriel took a step back. Then he lifted a hand and held it, ready to snap. “I’ll be seeing you around, Sammy boy.”

With nothing more than that, he snapped and was gone, releasing his hold on the others and banishing his illusions. The echoes of his laughter could be heard as Bobby and Dean crashed down onto the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard not to post all the chapters I have done, all at once, but I'm a whore and I love your comments. Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm borrowing a thing from my dear @theriversong (Who, without her, this fic wouldn't be possible!) and my Enochian is in bold :)

Making the choice to keep an eye on the Winchesters proved rather interesting. Gabriel couldn’t follow them around _all_ the time. He had a life of his own, tricks to pull, and he wasn’t interested in the day to day moments that the boys had. But he kept a special eye on them and made sure to check in now and again. Nothing about Sam had changed since the boys had left Crawford Hall. That little flash of power – of grace – hadn’t shown up again. At least, not that Gabriel had seen. He mostly popped by during the day, not bothering to slip in while they were sleeping.

Trying to figure out what was going on with Sam was driving him crazy. When Gabriel wasn’t checking in on them, he was doing a little research of his own, trying to figure out which demon it was that had visited Sam’s nursery all those years ago. He was getting close to just taking a little jaunt into the past when something happened that froze Gabriel’s plans in their tracks.

Sam vanished.

He came by to check on the boys and found Dean in a panic, calling up everyone and trying to find any sort of lead on his brother. He heard him talking on the phone to Bobby and, as he listened in, he got the answer he’d been looking for. “What if this has something to do with Yellow Eyes?” Dean asked, his voice frantic. “Bobby, there was so much sulfur there. He’s the only demon that would try and grab Sammy like that, and be able to do it without me seeing anything!”

Yellow eyes. _Yellow eyes._ Well, that really narrowed down which demon they were dealing with here. Gabriel gave a low, mental whistle as he watched Dean pace. There was only a few demons out there with yellow eyes, and only one that he knew was fanatical enough to be a part of these plans. Suddenly, Gabriel’s theory about grace leaking in with the demon blood seemed just a bit more plausible. Had that been a part of Lucifer’s plan all along?

Azazel was a special brand of demon. He was one of the Fallen who had been most loyal to Lucifer. Angels who had gone with him and who had been turned into his very first demons. They were what had been known as the ‘Princes of Hell’. Lucifer’s very first, and most powerful, demons. The ones that had once been his most loyal. The others, they were gone now, but Azazel had stuck around. He was a bit of a fanatic.

If Azazel was the one to bleed into Sammy, that changed things up a little. No wonder the kid was showing power!

As Gabriel watched Dean pace, he realized that it didn’t really matter anymore, either. The rest of what Dean said sank in and Gabriel felt himself slump. If Azazel had taken Sam, it was likely he’d taken the others, too, which meant he was putting into motion the plan that was going to be the beginning of the end for all of them. Sam Winchester was going to die, and his brother would run to the first crossroads and sell his soul, ensuring he’d get a one-way ticket to Hell – right where the demons wanted him to be.

Now that Azazel had him, there was no way for Gabriel to find Sam. Not unless he wanted to reveal himself. He wasn’t going to be able to save the hunter from the death that awaited him in Azazel’s games, which meant that he wasn’t going to be able to stop his brother afterwards. He couldn’t even risk trying to follow Dean in. If he did, there was every chance Azazel might sense something and start to look too closely and Gabriel couldn’t have that happening.

There was a reason that Gabriel had run away from home so long ago. He couldn’t stand seeing the fighting back then, and he didn’t want to see it now. These humans, they had no idea just how much their lives had been pushed around, how much things had been orchestrated to bring them to _here_ , to _now_. There’d been a tiny part of Gabriel that had hoped, maybe, if he met them and they proved to be good guys, maybe they could make friends somehow, or at least reluctant allies. Then they’d know to call on him if something went wrong. But, it hadn’t worked out like that. They’d been ready to kill him in the end.

Though it hurt him to do it – made his hidden grace _throb_ with pain – the archangel-turned-trickster drew away silently.  He left Dean there with his grief and his efforts to bring his brother home and he flew away to his own private hideaway. There wasn’t much that could get an angel drunk, but the Asgardian mead he had might do the trick.

“Why not?” He grumbled to himself when he landed. Going straight to his liquor cabinet, he pulled out the jug and poured himself a glass. Then he lifted it to the sky in a silent ‘cheers’ to the family he’d left behind. “Cheers, guys.”

In the silence of the room, he emptied his glass and tried not to think of what was to come.

* * *

There had never been a more welcome sight for Sam than the one of his brother and Bobby walking towards him. Weapons in hand, the two were marching in like they owned the place, ready and willing to go up against just about anything if it meant bringing Sam home, and the younger Winchester loved them for it. To be loved with that kind of ferocity was amazing and humbling. It brought a smile to Sam’s lips even as he answered his brother’s call, a relieved “Dean” pouring past his lips.

He didn’t think anything of the man he’d left lying on the ground behind him. Not until Dean’s expression turned fierce and he called out Sam’s name again, a sharp, warning “Sam, look out!” that came just seconds too late. A hand grabbed Sam’s shoulder and then there was nothing in the world but _pain_. It roared to life right in his back, that sickeningly familiar sensation of being stabbed, of something forcing its way into his body and tearing him apart. He couldn’t do anything to fight against it as it tore into him. Vaguely, he heard Dean shouting his name, heard the utter terror that was in it, but he couldn’t respond to it. All he could do was grunt and try to draw in air that just wouldn’t come.

The power inside of Sam flared to life as the pain tried to rip him apart. Everything inside him burned white hot, an agony centered on the middle of his back and pushing inwards, and then it froze, the fire turning to ice that filled his veins before it suddenly blasted out of him in a wave of power that sent everything and everyone flying back. Jake – and it had to be Jake, he was the only one around – was ripped away from him, yanking with him whatever it was he’d used to stab Sam with. The pain of that leaving him was almost as bad as the pain of it going in.

That blast of power took the last of Sam’s energy. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, dropping down to his knees on the cold ground. Somewhere nearby, he swore he heard a scream – was that him? Was he screaming? He didn’t think it was, yet it sounded like him – and that place inside him that he felt his power in, it seemed to echo that scream in pulses of icy light.

Sam was barely aware as arms gathered him up. Someone was holding him, touching his face, fisting at his shirt, yanking him in and pressing him close. The body that held him, it was familiar, but Sam could barely feel it.

“Come here, let me look at you.” A voice was saying. He knew that voice, didn’t he? Then there was something against his back and the pain spiked, making his powers ripple along his skin, and heat pressed warm against Sam’s chest. That heat curled around him and held him close once more, and it felt good, it felt safe. “Hey, look at me.” That voice was speaking again, anchoring him down through the waves of _nothingness_ that were starting to spread through him. The pain was fading. Everything was fading. Even that voice – it got fainter and fainter, though he tried to hold on to it. Something told him it was important to hold on to it. “It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!”

Something inside of Sam gave a sharp _jolt_ as if he were being electrocuted. He felt it spread through his whole body so hard he jerked in that grip – _Dean’s grip –_ that was trying desperately to keep him in place.

Then the world was consumed in a blindingly bright and Sam didn’t even notice as he screamed before everything washed away on waves of that light.

* * *

_No, no, no, please, don’t do this to me, don’t put me here!_

_He screeched his fury and beat himself against the walls of his prison even as the locks slowly clicked into place. They couldn’t do this to him! They couldn’t! Don’t leave me here! You bastards, don’t you leave me here!_

_The last lock clicked into place and he felt the final connection sever, the last traces of home_ gone _, and he was alone. Well and truly alone._

* * *

_“ **You know what you’re doing is wrong. Stop this nonsense and come home, please** …”_

* * *

_“You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”_

* * *

_So cold, so dark, so empty. All he could hear were the sounds of screams, the torture done by the very beings he’d created, the twisted and jagged excuses for human souls that were stained by darkness. Tainted by_ him _. These broken, flawed, disgusting abortions, never trying to get better, never trying to do better. Instead, they were here, twisting others to be like them, breaking them, tearing them apart until they were just as broken. Until there was nothing left._

_Nothing but the dark._

_Alone in his prison, he laughed – and all of Hell shivered._

* * *

_“I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...”_

_“Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.”_

_“I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.”_

_“You didn't kill Lenore.”_

_“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.”_

_“Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.”_

_“Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.”_

_“Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.”_

_“Thanks.”_

* * *

“Hold him down!”

“What’s happening?” Someone demanded. Someone familiar. He… knew him, right?

“I don’t know!” The other voice said. Hands were on him, hard and firm, pinning him down. “He keeps seizing like this, he’s gonna break himself. Hold him down, Dean!”

Firm hands on his shoulders, weight over his chest. What was this? What were they doing to him. He tried to push up, to knock it away, but it held him down, pinned him in place until something else was there and that weight was gone, yet he still couldn’t move. Something was keeping him here. What the hell was it?

He thrashed, the bonds holding him in place, and a snarl built on his lips. Was this some new torment for him? Every inch of him pressed up and his back left the ground – _bed_ – he was lying on. What was going on here? What had stuck him in this, this _human_ place? Thrashing against the bonds that held him here, he twisted and turned, trying to break free, only nothing was right. Nothing was working right! Where were his wings? No matter how he tried, they weren’t there. His wings, his tail, none of the limbs he was used to having – they were _gone_ and he was left trapped in this pathetic, limited, _human_ form. Another snarl tore past his lips.

Then someone was over him again, their body pressing down onto his, and he snapped open his eyes – again, so _limited_ , the world flat and dull when he knew there should be so much _more_ – and what he saw was enough to choke the growl building his throat. Though he couldn’t _see,_ not truly, he knew that soul above him, knew who it was and what it was, and it screamed out to him in a visceral way. _Brother_ , it said. _Brother. Safe. Brother._

“ **Brother**.” The word tore from his lips before he could think. “ **Michael**?”

Eyebrows furrowed over dark green eyes that were so full of love and worry. A look that he could see, could _feel_ , and it was like a taste of home, of what had once been, and he was at once thirsty for more, aching with the ever-present loneliness more than he had in such a long time. “Sam.” That voice, it stirred something inside him, something deep. He closed his eyes and let the memories come in broken little fragments, paler than his other ones and yet full of so much _more_. Gentle hands, smoothing over his brow. A voice in his ear, whispering kind words, promising him “It’s gonna be okay, little brother.” “I’m right here” “I’m not going anywhere, Sammy, you hear me?” and then, louder than them all, “Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new, huh? I’m gonna take care of you.”

That voice – it was like Michael and yet it wasn’t. It was different. It was… it was…

A hand cupped his cheek, fingers sliding up into his hair, and there was a gentle scritch-scratch against his scalp. “I’m right here, Sammy. You’re all right. I’m right here.”

 _Dean_.

It was Dean. This was Dean, and he was… he was _Sam_. He was Sam and he was with Dean, and that meant… it meant he was _safe_.

With the certainty of that last statement echoing through every inch of him, Sam gave in to the exhaustion of his body, and he sank down into unconsciousness, trusting in his brother to watch over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

_Jesus_. Dean stared down at the limp body of his brother and that was the only word he could really think of. _Jesus_. It’d been an hour since Sam had last woken up, and even that amount of time wasn’t enough for Dean’s brain to finally settle once more. Too much had happened in too short of time. There was no way he could make sense of it all.

Just hours ago, Dean had been kneeling in the mud, clutching at the body of his brother and so terrifyingly sure that it was going to be the last time he was ever going to be able to hold him. He’d felt Sam’s body go limp in his arms. Had felt the slow, stuttered breaths actually _stop_. There wasn’t a single moment in his life that Dean could remember being more afraid. Nothing he’d gone up against had prepared him for the feeling of his baby brother dying in his arms. This was the kid he was supposed to take care of, protect. The one he was supposed to keep safe. As he’d knelt there, clutching his entire world right there in his arms, he’d cursed himself for how miserably he’d failed at that.

What happened next, he still wasn’t quite sure. Neither him nor Bobby could make any sense of it. What they both agreed on was that something bright had come streaking across the sky like a comet or a shooting star. Only, instead of passing overhead, it’d come straight at them, right at where Sam and Dean were still on the ground. Dean had tried to grab hold of his brother and twist them away, move out of its path, only… it was like it had curved so that it could _follow_ them. But that didn’t make sense! Light couldn’t _follow_ you. Then again, big balls of light didn’t usually exist like that.

Whatever the thing was, it had followed them down to the ground and, before Dean could stop it, it’d slammed right into Sam.

The resulting blast had sent Dean flying backwards a good twenty five feet. He still had bruises from where he landed.

Even before he hit the ground, the whole area was lit up by that light, like some sort of bomb blast that went off. And when it cleared and Dean was on his feet again, uncovering his eyes and blinking heavily to try and clear away the spots, he found Sam lying there at the center.

Alive.

Not just alive - healthy. Healed. The wound on his back was gone. Nothing but the tear in his clothes and the slowly drying blood were left to show there had ever even been a wound.

Neither Dean nor Bobby had known what to make of it. What had the light been? How was he healed? Was he… was it even Sam in they anymore? With too many questions and not any answers, they did the only thing they could do. They took his unconscious body back to Bobby's and put him in the what Bobby called his ‘panic room’. It was a room he’d built in the basement of his house that Dean couldn’t help but be impressed by. The place was built to keep out pretty much every supernatural thing the man could think of - or keep something in. “It’s the best place for him till we know what’s going on.” Bobby had pointed out. Little though Dean liked the idea of his brother being put in there like some prisoner, it was all they could think of to do.

Things hadn't gotten any better from there. Not even twenty minutes after they put him on the cot in there, Sam started seizing.

Worse than that - when he started seizing, his powers went _insane_.

Books and things were flying all around the room, twisting and swirling. Dean got hit at least five different times as he made the leap for Sam. The cot was shaking and rattling like it was going to rise up off the floor and even the desk against the far wall was starting to rise. With each jerk of the seizure that shook his body, his powers lashed out around him. Dean’s shouts and the sound of thuds drew Bobby back downstairs. Between the two of them, they managed to get Sam pinned down.

From underneath the bed Bobby pulled out something that had Dean’s eyes going wide. Those were – they were _shackles_. Not just plain, boring cuffs, but actual shackles that would curl around his wrists and ankles. “What the hell, Bobby?” Dean demanded, trying to keep a hold on his brother even as he glared at the items in Bobby’s hands.

“He’s only gonna hurt himself if we leave him like this.” Bobby said firmly, though it was clear by the look on his face he wasn’t happy with this. “I don’t like it either, but we ain’t got much choice.”

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know!” The words were a low growl that would’ve sounded angry to those that didn’t know him. To Dean, the worry was clear in Bobby’s voice and in every inch of his body as he tried to pin down Sam’s legs. “He keeps seizing like this, he’s gonna break himself. Hold him down, Dean!”

As if to prove his point, Sam’s body bucked and jolted, thrashing in the bed more like he was trying to get free than like he was seizing. It was almost as if he were trying to get away. Dean and Bobby both swore and redoubled their efforts to pin him down. Dean was practically lying on top of Sam, chest to chest, catching hold of his thrashing wrists and pinning them down to the mattress on either side of his head. He tried to talk to him, calling his name and reassuring him – “It’s okay, Sammy, you’re okay, I’m right here. I’m right here, little brother, I got you.” – as Bobby finished with Sam’s feet and then hurried up to get his hands as well.

It felt so wrong to chain him down like this. Yet, it was clear that Sam wasn’t seizing anymore. He was trying to escape – from _them_. Why the hell would he be trying to run away from them? It made no sense! Not unless it… it really _wasn’t_ Sam. They still had no idea what the hell that light had been.

When Sam was finally chained down, Dean slowly moved back, not quite letting go of him completely. He kept his hands on Sam and continued to try and soothe him down even as Sam thrashed and snarled at him. His little brother looked almost feral as his lips pulled back from his teeth and he made a sound like a furious, cornered animal.

“Dammit, Sammy. Sammy!” Dean couldn’t, he couldn’t just watch this. If Sam wasn’t hearing him, maybe he’d be able to feel him. Shoving forward once more, Dean pressed himself down on top of Sam, grabbing hold of the kid’s head just like he’d done through some of the more violent nightmares. “Listen to me, Sammy. Listen to my voice. You’re safe, do you hear me? I’m right here and so is Bobby. You’re _safe_.”

He was stunned when Sam’s eyes suddenly snapped open. Even more so when he caught sight of them. Though he’d seen Sam’s eyes glow before, it hadn’t been like this. This wasn’t a mute glow of cold white and blue. Any sign of Sam’s usual hazel was gone completely underneath the frozen blue that took over his eyes now, broken only by cracks of white spreading through them.

Those eyes should’ve labeled him as decidedly _in_ human, and yet, as soon as they caught sight of Dean, something in them went still. A tiny furrow built between his brows as he uttered a word Dean didn’t recognize, though he knew enough to place it in that strange gibberish Sam’s dreams always brought forward. Another word came next, this one a bit more hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure. Or like he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Sam.” This, at least, was something that Dean knew. He had experience dealing with this part of things. Granted, this hadn’t been a dream, but what was going on was kind of like that, just amplified. The throwing objects around, the glowing eyes, the gibberish. His fighting had been new, but the rest of it was familiar, and that let Dean relax just a little. He shifted one of his hands so that he was free to slide it up to Sam’s hair and he started that scritch-scratch that always soothed him down. At the same time, he pitched his voice low and soft, a sound that was reserved only for Sam. “I’m right here, Sammy. You’re all right. I’m right here.”

When Sam once more drifted down into sleep, it was obvious that it actually was _sleep_ this time and not unconsciousness. His eyes closed naturally and his body went limp.

Dean sighed out a breath he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding in. When he let it out, his own body began to slump. _Jesus_.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. Dean jerked to the side, body still covering Sam’s, and he tensed in preparation of any kind of trouble. What he found had him relaxing. It was just Bobby standing there, his hands held up in a peaceful gesture. “It’s just me, boy.”

Oh. _Whoops_. Dean felt a bit of embarrassment for his reaction. He just, he wasn’t used to anyone else being around when they dealt with these kinds of things. It was always him and Sammy. The two of them, together. This wasn’t something that anyone else was ever present for. Honestly, as soon as he’d climbed back on Sam, he’d forgotten entirely about Bobby’s presence.

The way Bobby was looking at him made it clear that he understood and he wasn’t judging. He gave Dean a small nod. Then he lifted his free hand and jerked a thumb back towards the door. “Why don’t we go on and wait upstairs for a while? Looks like your brother’s gonna be sleeping for a bit.”

Almost instantly Dean was shaking his head. No way. “I’m not leaving him down here by himself.” Like hell if he was going to do something like that! He knew Sam was already worried enough as it was that he was some sort of monster. That his powers made him evil. Then, with what their Dad had said – nope, no way was Dean going to do anything that might make Sam feel any worse about himself than he already did. He wasn’t going to let that happen, and if Sam woke up down here, shackled and alone, that was _exactly_ what would happen. The first thing the stupid kid would think was that he’d gone darkside or something else equally idiotic. There was no way Dean could head that off if he wasn’t right here when Sammy woke up. So, that meant that he was staying right here until his kid brother opened his eyes.

Though Dean didn’t say any of that, it was clear by the way that Bobby was watching him that he’d caught at least some of it. Either that or he just knew the stern look on Dean’s face all too well. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it there. Even as a kid, Dean had gotten that look whenever anyone tried to insist that he let someone else take care of ‘his’ brother. Dean always took care of Sam, to the extent that Sam tended to balk or panic if someone strange tried to take care of him when he didn’t feel well.

“All right.” Bobby said slowly. “I’ll go make some coffee.”

Dean nodded his appreciation. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Once the older man was gone, Dean settled in on his chair and prepared himself to be there for the long haul. As he watched his brother’s sleeping face, he worried to himself about what was going to happen when Sammy _did_ wake up. Was he going to go back to throwing things and freaking out, or would he be the same little brother that Dean had always known?

The fact that he didn’t know scared the shit out of him.

* * *

Dean stayed down there through the long night. Never once did it even occur to him to go upstairs and sleep in a bed while he waited. He stayed there at Sam’s side as his brother slept. About halfway through the night, when it was clear that the seizures were done – for now, at least – he removed the shackles and tossed them back under the cot. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to wake up wearing those. If he was in his right mind, their presence would only freak him out even more.

At some point, his own exhaustion must’ve won out. The last thing Dean remembered was sitting on the ground to stretch out his legs and ease the rest of him from the bent position he’d been in. The next thing that came through was the feel of a hand nudging at the side of his head and an all too familiar voice asking “Dean? Wha’s goin’ on?”

The sleep slurred sound of Sam’s voice was enough to snap Dean out of his own sleep. In a flash he was scrambling up onto his knees and spinning around so that he could look down at his brother. And it most definitely _was_ his brother. There was no glow to Sam’s eyes, no things flying around the room, no gibberish, nothing. Just pure, sleepy Sam, looking tired and confused and all of about ten years old as he stared up at Dean like he expected his big brother to make sense of whatever it was that was confusing him.

For one second Dean just stared. Then he did the only thing he could do. He reached out and grabbed Sam tight, yanking him up into a firm hug. One of his hands cupped the back of Sam’s head and the other curled over his shoulder, holding him tightly in place. “You little shit.” The words were breathed out against Sam’s hair, low and fervent and full of relief. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Okay.” Sam said slowly. He’d brought his own arms up to hug Dean back, though likely it was just instinct. When they pulled back, he looked even more confused than before, and just a bit more awake. “How about you tell me what I did, so I know what I’m not supposed to do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. Sam – he didn’t remember? “We should, uh… we should probably go check in with Bobby.”

He could tell he’d only worried Sam more. But the kid nodded, trusting completely in Dean. “All right.”

As they rose to their feet, Dean couldn’t resist reaching out one more time and yanking Sam in close for another hug. He’d thought for sure that he was going to lose his brother yesterday. To have him back, have him standing right here and able to hug him, it was the best thing Dean could’ve asked for. He had no idea what he would’ve done if whatever the hell that strange light was hadn’t saved him. Sammy was his responsibility. He had to keep him safe.

They pulled back and Dean smiled at his brother. He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder and nudged him towards the door. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get upstairs and see if the old man’s awake. I want coffee – and bacon. Lots of bacon.”

“You have a disgusting diet, Dean.” Sam told him, the familiar barbs flowing easily between them.

Dean took note of the fact that Sam didn’t stumble at all as he exited the door and crossed through the wards. Good. One test down, only about a million more to go.

Hiding his concerns under a grin, he followed Sam up the stairs. “You’re just jealous you can’t eat like that and look as good as I do.”


	8. Chapter 8

There was something really strange going on with everyone. Sam wasn’t sure what it was, he just knew that it was _something._ First of all, he’d woken up in Bobby’s panic room of all places. That wasn’t exactly a good start. Nor was it a good sign that he sort of felt like he’d been hit by a bus, rolled down a hill, dunked in an icy lake, and then chewed on a bit by some of their usual monsters. Add in that Dean was on the ground next to his cot and, yeah, Sam was pretty worried and he’d only just opened up his eyes.

He noticed other things, too, despite the fact that his family obviously thought that he didn’t. He saw how Dean relaxed a bit when Sam crossed the threshold of the panic room. Just as he knew there was holy water mixed in with his coffee, and the fork he was given with his eggs was pure silver. Whatever had happened, it was obvious that there was some kind of risk that he wasn’t himself. Sam didn’t blame them for it. He had no idea what happened. For all he knew, they had a really good reason to feel that way. If how he felt was any indicator, _something_ had gone on.

Most of the body aches were starting to go away, thankfully. The longer he was up, the better he felt. But his head – that wouldn’t stop pounding. And his chest was aching in a strange sort of way he couldn’t quite describe.

Neither Bobby nor Dean would tell him what the hell was going on. Not until he’d settled in with his plate of food and had passed all their little tests. Even then, they might have kept trying to brush it all off if Sam hadn’t bluntly said “All right, I passed every test you guys gave me. Is someone going to explain what’s going on?”

For a second the two just looked at him. Bobby was against the counter, watching them both and cradling a mug with one hand, while Dean had taken the seat across from Sam at the table. At hearing his brother’s words, he gave Sam a sharp look and then rose from the table before going to a nearby cabinet. When he came back he had a few pills in hand and he dropped them down right by Sam’s mug. At Sam’s curious look, he shrugged and dropped back down into his chair. “You’re only ever that bitchy when you’ve got a headache. Take em.”

Sam scooped the pills up gratefully and swallowed them down with a drink of coffee.

Once he did, Dean nodded his head. Then he drew in a breath and sat forward, arms coming to rest on the table. “Why don’t you tell us what happened with you, first? We’ll get it all out in order.”

That made sense. Though Sam was dying to know what had happened to bring him here, it was logical to start from the beginning. Unfortunately, the story he had to tell wasn’t all that pleasant. He managed to explain it all to them around eating his breakfast. He told them about arriving in the abandoned town, about finding the others there, and about what had happened to all of them – and to Ava. That part was still hard for Sam to even think about. Ava, who had been so sweet, and who’d turned into… _that_. If it were possible for someone like her to go bad that way, what was to stop him?

And Andy – that was a blow. Sam had honestly liked him and he knew Dean had, too.

By the time he got to the end, well, that was where things started to get hazy. Sam was finished with his breakfast by now and was just holding on to his coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. His memories here weren’t the best and it took him a bit of focus. “I was… I was fighting with Jake.” He said slowly. He had been, right? Squinting down at his mug, he tried to make his aching head focus. It felt like trying to dig through molasses to find what he needed. “He… he was down, and I, I heard you.” Looking up, he locked eyes with Dean, and he felt the memory push forward a little more. That was right. He’d heard Dean calling out his name. _Sam! Sam!_ “You were coming for me. I heard you and I, I was relieved. But then…”

A jagged spike of pain lanced across his brain like an ice pick had been shoved in. Sam almost dropped his mug as he gasped and hurried to bring his hands up to his head.

He heard Dean saying his name, though it echoed in a distant sort of way. Other things were pushing forward in Sam’s head and he couldn’t focus beyond them. He didn’t even notice as his hands dug into his hair and pulled. He remembered… he remembered… light. Bright, _beautiful_ light, so amazingly perfect, so right, lighting up the whole sky and pouring down into him. Healing him. Because – another lance of pain made Sam gasp. “ **I died.** ”

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was right there by his head, right next to him, and his hands were settling over top of Sam’s.

The warmth of Dean’s touch drew him up out of his head just enough that Sam could look up. Hazel eyes found green ones and anchored there, holding on to the familiar sight. “ **I died. And it saved me. The light – my light – saved me**.” He didn’t know where the words came from, only that they were true. That light, whatever it had been, it’d saved him. It had come inside of him and had _saved_ him, healing the wound in his back where Jake had actually stabbed him.

Worry lit up Dean’s eyes. He looked over at Bobby and then back to Sam. “Sammy, look at me, focus on me.” Dean said in a firm voice. “I need you to come back to me, all right. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, I need you to come back to me.”

Come back to him? But he was right here. “ **What are you talking about?** ”

“I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, Dean.” Bobby said suddenly. Though Sam didn’t turn, he could hear the concern there as well as the confusion. “Look at him. He looks lost.”

“He’s never done it while awake before!” Dean insisted.

“Well he’s doin’ it now, an I don’t think he means to. Try talking to him again. Maybe he understands us, at least.”

“Dammit.” Pressing his hands in against Sam’s, Dean slowly pried them free and then drew them down. “I don’t know what you’re saying, Sammy. I’ve never understood this gibberish you speak. Do you get what I’m saying here, kiddo? Am I making sense to you?”

Sam nodded slowly. Of course he was making sense! But what – why was he trying to insist that Sam _wasn’t_? He was speaking just as plainly as ever… wasn’t he? Worry snaked in and Sam found himself tightening his hold on Dean’s hands. He looked down – how had Dean ended up squatting beside his chair, when had that happened? – and focused on his brother. “ **I do not understand, brother.** ” Brother. _Brother._

A cascade of images flashed before Sam’s eyes. He saw Dean, over and over again, always there with him, always by his side. Always loving him no matter what. Love, joy, protectiveness, affection, mockery, all wrapped up in the bundle that was his brother. Half hugs and whispered words of comfort in dark nights. The gentle scratch of fingernails in his hair, over his scalp, between his feathers. The promise of comfort and protection and safety. Running together through the fields, chasing each other through the air as they twisted and turned and let their wings spread wide and far. Laughing together when there was no one else around to see. Dean, his big brother, his best friend, the one he’d thought he could trust, and the one who had thrown him down into the dark and the cold, _all alone…_

 _Not Dean_ , his brain shouted at him. _Not Dean. That wasn’t Dean!_ But – brother. It was all tied around that word brother.

“ **Michael**.” The words slipped past Sam’s trembling lips. Though he didn’t know it, his cheeks were coated with the tears he hadn’t even felt fall. “Michael.”

Dean let go of Sam’s hands with one of his own so that he could reach up and cup the side of Sam’s face. The two might as well have been alone then for all the attention they paid anything outside their little bubble. Dean’s eyes were bright and fierce with a protectiveness that warmed Sam deep inside. “Michael? Is that who did this to you, Sammy? Is that who hurt you?” In those questions was the promise of pain. _Anyone messes with my brother, I’ll rip out their lungs_. It was a promise Dean had made over and over and Sam heard it right there in those words.

A few more tears leaked free. Sam wanted to wipe them away, only his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “I don’t know.” He whispered, and he recognized this time that his words were back to normal, that they weren’t _different_ like they’d before. “I don’t know.” _Yes,_ part of him wanted to say. _Yes, he hurt me. He was supposed to look out for me. He was supposed to be there for me. But he put me in there. The one I was supposed to trust above all others, and he locked me away for disagreeing with them. For not being the perfect son. For that, he locked me away in the cold and the dark, and he left me alone. So alone._

“Hey, hey.” Dean used his hold on Sam’s face to give him a small shake. It snapped him back out of his thoughts and into the present. Only when they were looking at each other did Dean speak again. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out, Sammy. All right? You and me, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do.”

You and me. Sam anchored himself on those words. No matter what else he was thinking or feeling right now, he knew the truth of those words. It was him and Dean. Sure, they had Bobby. He was standing here with them and he wasn’t going anywhere. But in the end they always had each other and that never changed. Sam held on to that as he nodded his head. “Okay.”

Smiling, Dean nodded back at him and lightly patted his cheek. “That’s my boy.”

It took a few minutes for Sam to get himself settled once more and to push away the strange thoughts that were in his head. The two with him gave him that time, recognizing that he needed it. Dean took Sam’s plate away to the sink and Bobby refreshed all their cups.

As he was sipping his fresh cup of coffee, a thought hit Sam and he looked up quickly. “Was Jake still alive when you left?” Sam asked. He watched Dean and Bobby share a speaking glance that he could easily read. Surprise had Sam sitting back in his chair. “You guys didn’t go check?”

“We were a bit busy.” Dean said dryly.

That meant that there was a good chance that Jake might be out there still. What was going on here with Sam was important, yeah, but so was whatever Yellow Eyes was planning. He’d wanted them all for something important.

“I been lookin’ into it.” Bobby said, drawing their attention. Sam looked up with interest while Dean just looked surprised. Seeing that surprised look, Bobby scowled. “What? You think I was just up here wringin’ my hands? While you watched over Sam, I took a look around, tryin’ to see if there was anything going on.”

Sam sat up a little straighter. “What’d you find?”

A grimace crossed Bobby’s features that put the boys instantly on alert. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. The older man shifted against the counter and then sighed. “I found demonic omens like a frickin' tidal wave. Cattle deaths, lightning storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere. All around the same area, except for one place. Southern Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?” Dean asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” Bobby said. “That one area's totally clean – spotless. It's almost like the demons are… surrounding it.”

That was a chilling thought. What could bring demons to surround an area like that? Or, better yet – what could keep them out?

Those questions, and quite a few others, were put on hold when the three of them all heard the sound of someone outside. Three heads snapped up at the sound of footsteps on the front porch. Then, in a flash, all of them moved. Dean darted to their nearby duffle bag and grabbed a gun, tossing one over to Sam, while Bobby grabbed his own shotgun and moved towards the door. The brothers were both on their feet, guns held at the ready. There was no way they were taking any chances. Sam could feel that place inside of him that carried his power, the one that had always felt so strained after he’d exerted himself too much after his nightmares. It felt almost stronger now. Bigger. And it was just as alert and ready as the rest of him.

However, as soon as Bobby opened the door, they all went still with shock. Bobby was the one to break the silence that had fallen over them. “Ellen?”

* * *

It took a lot of hugs, some tears, and a glass of holy water infused whiskey before everyone finally started to relax once more. Sam listened with horror as everyone talked about the Roadhouse. He hadn’t known about that! All of them, they were gone? Just, gone? The thought made him sick. As he leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Ellen, who was in the seat that Sam had occupied just twenty minutes ago, he fought not to throw up. This war that they’d been fighting since they were kids, it was slowly but surely kicking their asses, and the amount of casualties was adding up too much. They were losing too many.

No matter how many little victories they gained, they never seemed to outweigh the losses. Mary, Jess, John, Pastor Jim, Caleb. Now the Roadhouse. Ash. Almost Ellen, even. They were losing anyone and everyone who got close to them. All these people were at risk, because of them. Sam hated it. God, how he hated it.

Those thoughts burned in the back of his head as they looked over the map that Ellen had pulled from the safe, the one that showed even more markings, all around Wyoming.

Bobby was the one to figure out what the X’s on Ellen’s map were. They were frontier churches, all mid-19th century, and all of them built by Samuel Colt. The same Samuel Colt who had made the very Colt that they’d hunted down before. But more than that, it seemed like the man had built private railway lines connecting church to church in a pattern that made a perfect one hundred square mile devil’s trap. It explained why the demonic omens Bobby had found were circling this area – they couldn’t get in.

The question was – what was in there that they wanted so badly?

There was no real choice for any of them after that. They had to go out there. Still, Sam could admit he wasn’t all that surprised when Bobby tried to convince him to stay behind. “It might be for the best, Sam.” Bobby sounded apologetic, though he looked firm. Sure in what he was saying. “We still don’t have a clue what’s going on with you, kid. I’m just sayin’, runnin’ out right now might not be the smartest of plans.”

No matter how true Bobby’s words were, there was no way that they could just stay here. Sam couldn’t do it and he knew Dean wouldn’t be able to either. This was their fight. It didn’t matter how many other people got involved – it was their fight. The yellow eyed demon was the thing they’d been chasing for almost all their lives. They had to go and see this through. They had to try and finish it. The brothers locked eyes and they knew that neither one was going to be convinced to stay behind. Not without knocking them out and tying them up. “Can you hold it together?” Dean asked.

Sam gave a sharp nod. “We don’t have a choice.”

It was true. He just hoped he was going to be able to live up to it. The last thing they needed was him freaking out and his powers going haywire while they were out trying to take care of this. If he started seizing and speaking gibberish again, he was going to become a liability real quick.

* * *

It only took an hour before they were all out on the road on their way to Wyoming. Whatever was there, they needed to make sure that the demons never got to it. Samuel Colt had built that big of a devil’s trap for a reason. They weren’t going to let it be in vain. But they had to move quickly. Because, as Sam had pointed out, “If Jake’s alive, this seems like just the thing that Yellow Eyes would want him for.”

When they reached the graveyard right at the center of that devil’s trap and found Jake there, Colt in hand, Sam really wished that he hadn’t been right. He wished that he’d been smart enough to not leave his enemy lying on the ground behind him, or that his powers had done the job and finished him off. Maybe then they wouldn’t be standing here, watching Jake grin at them without any of the compassion or sanity that Sam remembered seeing there before. Maybe, if he’d just brought himself to kill him the first time around, he might have to watch now as Jake used his powers to force Ellen to hold a gun to her own head – or as he used the Colt to open up a door to Hell, unleashing a tidal wave of demons on the world.

As Sam dove with the others to hide behind a tombstone, he felt that center of power in him shift and rumble the instant that gate was opened. It froze over, cold and furious, and this time he didn’t even try to fight it. He didn’t worry or wonder about what it was. He reached out for it and embraced it, pulling it in and letting it freeze out his veins. Right now, he’d take any advantage he could find, because at the moment they were screwed.

Power poured into Sam’s veins, chasing away the fear and guilt and misery. It pushed it all back until there was room for nothing else except the calm rage. The power glowed in Sam’s eyes as he straightened up from where he’d been crouching.

He heard Bobby and Ellen yelling about having to close the Hellgate. They were right, he knew. It had to be done. But there was something else a whole lot more important that required his attention at the moment. Lifting one hand, he waved it in the direction of the gate, adding a push of his power against their human strength, shoving the doors firmly closed at the exact same moment that the power he’d felt coming towards him grew even closer. When he turned, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the yellow-eyed demon that was standing over Dean.

Rage filled him as the demon sent Dean crashing back, away from the Colt that he’d been holding. How dare he? _How dare he_? No one – _no one_ – laid their hands on Dean.

When he took a step forward, the demon threw a hand out his way, intending on sending him flying, only to find that it had no effect at all.

Straightening up to his full height, he stared down at the demon and felt the power inside him turn even colder and even more dangerous. When he spoke, the words that came past his lips wasn’t the musical sounding one that he’d spoken before, but nor was it English. It was deeper, harsher, and echoed with a chill that froze the humans around them straight down to their marrow. It was the original Hellspeak. “ ** _You overstep yourself, Azazel._** ”

Wide yellow eyes fixed right on his face, taking in the harsh lines there, the coldness of his tone. In an instant he knew exactly who he was speaking to and he dropped to his knees with a low and reverent “ ** _My lord._** ”

Though the power inside of him wasn’t what it could be – what it _should_ be – there was just enough of it for him to do this. He gathered that power as he stepped up towards the pathetic being still kneeling before him. Standing over him, staring down at a being who had once been one of his most loyal, one of his closest, all he could see were the images in Sam’s mind of a beautiful blond haired woman standing over a crib. The horror in her eyes as she was lifted up onto the ceiling.

It was her face that stayed in his mind as the power finally traveled down into his hand and something slipped down into his palm. Long fingers curled around the hilt of a long forgotten blade and he gripped it tightly. In one smooth move he sank down to one knee so that they were eye to eye with one another. With his free hand, he reached up and stroked Azazel’s cheek. Then he let his hand harden into a grip the other wouldn’t be able to break free from. At the same time, he brought the blade up and stabbed it straight into his black heart.

As the light flashed in Azazel’s eyes, Lucifer smiled. “ _That_ was for Mary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enochian is in Bold  
> Hellspeak is in Bold/Italic
> 
> Let me know what you think! Reviews feed the writer :D
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr @thequeervet - feel free to come and chat/yell/flail, whatever you want :)


	9. Chapter 9

When Gabriel felt the shift in the balance of the world, that little change that told him something important had just happened, it was his instincts that said it had something to do with the Winchesters. Of course it had something to do with them. Safely hidden inside of his home in a little pocket dimension that he’d made, Gabriel closed his eyes. Then he threw the glass in his hand at the wall hard enough to send the shattered pieces flying all over the room. Damn them! Damn those little _idiots_! There was only one thing that he could think of that would make a shift in the world like that. Dean had to have made his deal. The righteous man was now hell-bound and there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

Fury echoed through Gabriel, both in his pagan powers and in his grace, and he had to fight to keep them under control.

But then he felt it – something else that pushed at his senses. Something that he hadn’t felt in longer than these humans even knew existed.

Every inch of Gabriel froze and then locked down tight at the feel of that power – that grace. Inside of him, there was a part of his own grace that couldn’t help but sing at the feel of the one they’d once been the closest to. _Lucifer_. The big brother he had looked up to and had loved, wholly and completely. The one that he had loved so much, the loss of him had broken something inside of Gabriel that had never healed. It was what had sparked him to leave home so very long ago. To run far, far away and bury himself so deep in witness protection, none of his family would ever be able to find him.

How was it possible that he was feeling Lucifer now? His brother was in a Cage buried in the deepest pits of Hell. There was no way he could break free from there! The only way for him to get out was for sixty-six of the seals to be broken – and Dean’s demon deal was a sign of the first one getting lined up to break. They needed a righteous man to shed blood in Hell for the whole thing to get started, and that hadn’t happened yet. Hiding out from the Host or not, Gabriel would’ve _felt_ that.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, his wings were spread and he was taking flight, using all the speed the Messenger had to carry himself to wherever it was that he’d felt that grace come from. It was easy for him to latch on to the feel of it and fly, far and fast.

When he landed – his grace masked and hidden so that no one would be able to sense him – it was just in time to see Sam straightening up from the ground, Azazel’s now empty vessel lying there. In Sam’s fist was a bloody _angel blade_. Not just any angel blade, either – Lucifer’s blade. That was Lucifer’s blade.

But it wasn’t any of those things that Gabriel focused on. He took those details in and yet they all seemed so unimportant compared to _Sam_. The veil of demon blood that had been sheltering the kid from Gabriel’s sight before was now gone. There wasn’t a trace of it left in his system. He stood there in the middle of the graveyard, angel blade still held in his hand, and the light inside of him shone as bright as a star. There was no sign of a soul anywhere inside of Sam Winchester. If there ever had been, it was long gone now. All that was there was grace. Beautiful, familiar, _shredded_ grace.

The state it was in was enough to make Gabriel wince in sympathetic pain. Angels were made up of grace – it might’ve looked like blinding light to human, but it did carry a shape for them, a True Form that other angels could see – yet they were so much more complex than that. They could compress their True Forms down into something that could fit inside a human vessel. But the grace in Sam, it wasn’t a compressed version. It was as if someone had ripped off two big pieces of grace and then shoved them inside of the human. One was smaller, and it was more connected to the body, saturating every single piece of it in a way Gabriel hadn’t been able to see before. The other piece, the larger one, was still new, still trying to settle in and reform back with its other part, though it didn’t look like it was doing well.

What had happened? What on earth was going on? It shouldn’t be possible for Lucifer’s grace to be here inside of Sam! And yet – and yet it was. Not all of it, no, but _enough_.

The feel of more grace started to touch the edge of Gabriel’s senses. Even as he felt it he started to curse himself. He hadn’t thought about the fact that other angels had likely felt a flare of some sort of grace. They would've been too far away to identify it. All they’d know was that grace had been used here where there shouldn’t have been. If they were watching - and likely they were, considering who these two boys were - it meant that they would’ve seen Sam with the angel blade. They’d know it centered around him.

Stepping in the middle of this - that hadn’t been in Gabriel’s plans. Though it’d been hard, he’d walked away and left these idiots to their stupidity. And then he’d flown right in the instant something had changed. But this wasn’t just about them anymore. This was about so much more. Lucifer was here, though it shouldn’t be possible. Faced with the human he’d been so attracted to, and the brother he had always loved more than any other, there was no way Gabriel could walk away.

Lifting a hand, he snapped.

* * *

It wasn’t hard to transport Sam, Dean, and the other two humans with them, all back to that car graveyard they liked to go and stay at sometimes. The place belonged to the old guy with them, so Gabriel figured it’d be the safest place to take them.

Dean stumbled the instant he landed, demanding “What the hell?” while the other man and woman looked around with surprise. But it was Lucifer who held Gabriel’s attention. He was looking around with a smirk on his face that looked so off when done with Sam’s features, yet was so perfectly Lucifer. “ **Come out, come out, wherever you are…** ” He called out in a sing-song voice.

The blade in his hand twirled round and round and Gabriel watched as Sam - no, there was no way Gabriel could look at him right now and call him Sam, not when all he saw was his brother’s broken grace - strolled towards his brother, the silver of that blade flashing.

Gabriel contemplated running once more. It was always his first instinct when it came to his family. He just - he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to run again. Not from Sam, and not from these pieces of his brother. He had to know what was going on. With that in mind, Gabriel drew in a careful breath he didn’t actually need and he reached out to place some extra wards around the property. Only when he was sure they were as secure as possible did he finally stop trying to hide himself.

The instant he stopped hiding, his brother spun around, eyes going right to where Gabriel was perched on a car.

The others turned with him and they all had different reactions. The woman had no idea who he was, but she was braced and ready for trouble. The older guy - Bobby, he was pretty sure - was already reaching for his gun again though he seemed to realize it wouldn’t do him any good at all. Dean, however, he looked _pissed_. “ _You_.” He snarled out. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Gabriel crossed his legs under him and leaned back on his hands to get the most casual looking pose possible. One he knew would grate on Dean Winchester like nothing else. “Such gratitude, Deano. A thank you wouldn’t be remiss, seeing as how I did just save all your asses from having to deal with the biggest group of dicks you’re ever going to meet.”

“What are you talking about?” Bobby asked him. His tone wasn’t as sharp as Dean’s had been. Smart guy, this one. He recognized that they weren’t exactly the ones in charge here.

Amused, Gabriel smirked and turned to face the other man, though he kept an eye on his own brother. “Don’t you realize? You guys changed destiny today! Everyone with power felt the shifting in the cosmos.” With his smirk still in place, he slowly turned his head to look at Lucifer, and everyone else turned to look with him. Lucifer, for his part, seemed mostly amused by the attention, though Gabriel could see the pulsing of his grace that made it clear just how much pain the other archangel was in. Not that Gabriel could blame him. What had been done to his grace had to be agonizing for him.

Then Lucifer opened his mouth and Gabriel really should’ve stopped to think about the possibility of this before he came here. “ **Hello, brother**.”

That sure got the attention of the humans. Gabriel ignored it, just like he ignored everything else. He stared at his brother and arched an eyebrow at him. “ **How did you guess? I have been keeping myself hidden for a long time**.”

Lucifer shrugged one shoulder in a casual sort of way. Then, to Gabriel’s continued surprise, he brought his blade up and tucked it down inside his jacket. “ **Call it an educated guess. I may not be entirely myself, but there’s enough of me here to recognize that the power that brought us here was familiar. Who else would it be except for you? Who else would have taken us away from there and _not_ killed me**?”

The truth of that made Gabriel want to shiver. With the pitiful amount of grace that Lucifer carried right now, would he still need to be killed by an archangel blade, or would the blade of a regular seraph do the job? That wasn’t something that he even wanted to contemplate. No matter what Lucifer had done, he was still Gabriel’s brother. His favorite brother. As he looked at him now, saw the way that Lucifer was watching him with those gentle, puppy-dog eyes of his vessel, it was easy to remember the brother who had sat with him in Heaven and taught him the joys of music. The brother who had taught him how to fly, and how to dance. They’d been close in Heaven – close enough that some had thought they would bond, something that was only done by two who held a love for one another that was second only to their love of their Father. But then… then everything had gone wrong.

Remembering that had Gabriel hardening. He couldn’t afford to be soft. Not after everything. “What have you done with Sam Winchester?” Deliberately he switched back to English. He didn’t really want to have this conversation in the language of their home. Using it, hearing it, was far too bittersweet. Besides, the humans here deserved answers as well.

Gabriel’s question sent the tension in the air skyrocketing. It only got worse when Lucifer sighed and, in a very human gesture that startled the other archangel, lifted a hand to push his hair back from his face. “It’s a long story.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling we’ll all make time.” Gabriel said.

“You’re damn right.” Dean chimed in. He hadn’t reached for a weapon, and Gabriel doubted that he would, but he was radiating tension and his thoughts were practically screaming out his fear for his brother. “Who the hell are you and where’s my brother?”

Everything about Lucifer seemed to soften as he turned to face Dean. In that, it was easy for Gabriel to see Sam. Hell, if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve said it _was_ Sam. There was affection on his face and a hint of pain, like seeing Dean so upset was hurting him, and one of his hands twitched almost as if to reach out for him. Yet he curled his fingers in and kept his hands at his sides. However, when he spoke, there was a layer of gentleness that was purely Sam Winchester. “I’m still your brother, Dean, I swear it. I’m still me. Just… I understand a lot more now. I’ll explain everything, I swear I will, just – can we just maybe go inside? Sit down?”

There was no sound as the two stared off with one another. Dean kept his glare fixed right on Lucifer.  After a long moment, he nodded. “You damn well better give me some answers, Sammy.”

“I will, I swear.”

Dean gave a sharp nod and then turned to the other humans. “Bobby?”

The older man must’ve understood whatever it was that Dean was asking in that. Humans – they managed to convey so much with their voices. It wasn’t quite the same as the way that angels could share things with just the language of their bodies or their wings, but it was close enough. Gabriel never failed to be amazed by it now. Sam and Dean had always been particularly good at it any time he’d watched them. The way they talked with their faces, their bodies, and the tone of each other’s names, it was pretty impressive.

Bobby sighed and breathed out a low “ _Balls_ ” before he shook his head and straightened up. “Fine. If we’re gonna do this, we might as well do it comfortable.” That said, he fixed a sharp look on Gabriel. “But if there’s any kind of trouble, I aint afraid to try whatever I got handy to take you out.”

Amusement had Gabriel’s lips curving up. He lifted his hands up in that human gesture for peace. “Hey, I just want answers, same as the rest of you, that’s it.”

Snorting, Bobby shook his head, his thoughts clearly saying _I’ll believe it when I see it._ But he went ahead and gestured for them all to follow him anyways as he set off towards his house. “C’mon. I get the feelin’ we’re gonna need some alcohol for this.”

That was a bit of an understatement. Humans as a whole were rather skeptical beings. Unless they were children, or zealots, they rarely believed that angels were real. Telling that to a group of _hunters_ , well, that was just a recipe for disaster. There was no way they were going to take it well or easily. That wasn’t even factoring in the whole ‘Lucifer’ part of things. That was going to be even worse. To humans, the name Lucifer stood for everything that was dark and evil. He was the Devil. Satan. The Lord to demons, the reason for every bit of sin and destruction the earth had ever suffered. It wasn’t true, of course. Lucifer had been in his Cage all this time – there was no way he was responsible for the sins and temptations of the world.  It’s what the humans thought of when they spoke of him, though, and it was an image the angels had never sought to change.

But Gabriel remembered when he was once different. When he had been Heylel, the light-bearer, their morning star. The most beautiful and shining of them all. Daddy’s favorite. Michael had been beautiful in his own way. Strength, purpose, determination. He’d burned with righteousness and divinity in a way that struck awe in those that looked on. It made them want to do better, to be better, because he had been the best of them. Lucifer, though – he’d had a different kind of beauty. A kind that felt bright and pure and cool, just like the stars in the sky. There’d been beauty and love in him. Until that love started to twist and become something else, something darker.

As Gabriel watched everyone start to head to the house, he stared at the bits of grace that made up his brother, these broken pieces that shouldn’t be there and yet were. None of the taint that Gabriel remembered was there. None of the darkness he knew had once tried to swallow his brother whole. This was a glimpse of the brother that Gabriel had loved, and he didn’t know what he was going to do if Lucifer proved to be here for nefarious reasons. To attack that shining light would break something in Gabriel that had barely held together in all his time on earth.


	10. Chapter 10

It felt so very strange to be sitting in Bobby’s living room. Sam – and he _was_ Sam, no matter what else had changed – felt out of place sitting here on a couch he’d been on many times before. One that he’d even _slept_ on. This place, Bobby’s house, it was home to him in ways that not even his apartment at Stanford had managed to be. Bobby’s house, the Impala, those were home to him. As were the two men who were taking seats nearby. Bobby leaned himself against his desk, with Ellen at his side, while Dean grabbed a chair and brought it over, flipping it around backwards so he could straddle it while he looked at Sam, never once letting Gabriel out of his sight.

Looking at the being that he had once thought nothing more than a trickster had Sam’s chest going tight. There wasn’t enough grace in Sam for him to really _see_ his brother, but there was enough for him to know who it was.

It felt like there were two parts of Sam and both of them were warring away inside of him. There was a part of him that was Sam Winchester, a hunter, son to John, and Dean’s little brother. Then there was another part, a part that was only a piece of a much larger whole. That was the part that made him _Lucifer._ He was Sam and he was Lucifer. Human and archangel.  When he looked at Gabriel, he saw the trickster they’d met at the college, he saw Loki, and he saw the glory of the Messenger. He saw a cruel smirk and snapping fingers, and the light of his joy and the thousands of shades of gold in his wings. When he looked at Dean, he saw the vessel for his brother, the one he was meant to fight against in a battle that would end the world, and he saw the brother who had held him after his nightmares and nursed him through pretty much every cold he’d ever had.

There was so _much_ inside of his head and Sam could barely make sense of most of it. He knew who he was, and he knew _what_ he was, but it was all – jumbled. Mixed up. Only, he was going to have to find some way to make sense of it, because they were all here in front of him waiting for answers he knew he had to give. Even Gabriel was uncharacteristically silent as he snapped up his own chair and sat down, watching Sam intently.

“All right.” Dean said as soon as everyone was seated. “Start talking, Sammy.”

How on earth was he going to start this? Sam ran his hand over his forehead and used it to push his hair back from his face. “This isn’t going to be easy to explain, so, bear with me. My head… everything’s a bit mixed up right now.” That was an understatement. Still, he was clearheaded enough to at least start things. Hopefully Gabriel would be able to help. “First of all, I want to repeat – I’m still Sam. I’m the same kid who you taught how to tie their shoes by teaching them a bunny-dance song.” He smiled at Dean as he said that, knowing it was one story that only they knew, one that would make it a little more believable that he was who he said he was. That wasn’t a story Sam would tell anyone. If he were a demon, sure, he’d know that, he’d be able to pull the thoughts from the head of the one they were possessing, but Sam had walked in here past all the wards, and he’d shown no reaction. He knew Dean would realize all of that.

“If you’re Sam,” Ellen said, drawing his eyes. “Well, that’s not all you are. You’ve done something. Cause the kid I known, he had visions, yeah, but he couldn’t pull out a fancy knife from thin air that can kill a demon like that, an he couldn’t wave a hand and shut a Hellgate.”

There was no easy way to do this. _Blunt is the best way._ “What do you know about angels?”

“They aren’t real.” Dean said immediately. He ignored Gabriel’s instant snort and watched Sam’s face. “We had this talk already, Sammy. They’re just something people like to believe in to feel better about the evil in the world.”

“What if I told you they were real?” In contrast to Dean’s firm tone, Sam’s was softer, yet no less serious. If anything, there was something about his gentle tone that held the attention of the room even more than Dean’s had. Letting his eyes run over them all, Sam continued to speak in that same soft tone. “What if I told you that angels, Heaven, all of that was real.”

The way that Bobby was looking at Sam with suspicion and something sharper, something that showed the quick mind inside, told him that the older hunter had at least started to piece together some things. Ellen looked like she might be doing the same. But Dean looked just as confused as ever. “If they’re real, how come no one’s ever seen them? And what does that have to do with anything, anyways?”

This time there was no ignoring Gabriel’s snort. He rolled his eyes as he slumped down in his seat, one leg kicking up to rest over the armrest. “Are you always this slow, Deano, or did you get hit on the head recently?”

“People might’ve seen them and not even known it.” Sam quickly interjected, drawing the focus away from Gabriel. The last thing he needed was these two bickering. They were either going to be best friend or mortal enemies. He wasn’t keen on finding out which one just yet.

Unfortunately, Gabriel wasn’t in the mood to be hushed or ignored. Either that or he was just impatient to get past the things he already knew so he could get to the answers he wanted. Whatever it was, he cut Sam off and very bluntly walked them through a quick ‘Angels 101’. “Angels exist as something beyond your understanding, kiddo. To simplify it, they’re basically great big balls of light that are made up from God’s love in its purest form. Humans can’t look at them because they’d be blinded. Literally.” He lifted both hands and gestured at his own eyes. “I’m talking, eyes burned out. So, if they wanna come to earth – and trust me, they really don’t – they have to take vessels.”

“They _possess_ people?” Ellen asked incredulously.

Gabriel shrugged his shoulder, entirely unbothered by the way they were all looking at him. “Pretty much. They need permission first to enter a vessel, but in the end it’s still possession. Unless, y’know, they’re awesome enough to be know someone who can make them a vessel, of course.”

It was Bobby who took all the pieces they were giving out here and put them together into a clear picture. He narrowed his eyes on Gabriel and then turned slowly towards Sam. “That light we saw, that was an angel possessing you.”

“Bobby, you’re not telling me you seriously believe this.” Dean blurted out.

Bobby held a hand up to quiet him. “I’m not dumb enough to ignore what I can see, boy. Especially if what I’m thinking is right.” His eyes slanted to Gabriel again, and it made the archangel give one of his trademark trickster smirks. There was a swell of power in the room – grace, just barely contained – and the lights flickered as the shadows of wings rose up behind Gabriel in a clear yet casual display of power that was all the more compelling for his absolute silence. When they faded away and the lights were back to normal, the whole room was silent.

He looked even more amused when his eyes drifted over towards Dean, who was gaping open-mouthed at him. “You were saying, kiddo?”

“Holy shit.”

There was no telling which one of them ended up whispering that. Sam sat back on the couch and watched the room around him as they processed what they’d just learned. More than that, he _felt_ it. His powers were stronger now and he was picking up on so much more than he had before. It allowed him to feel the stunned shock in the room, just as he felt it when it slowly started to move towards acceptance, even if it was the grudging kind. These three humans were hunters; they couldn’t afford to react too much to things that came their way. If they took the time to freak out over every new thing that came their way, they’d be dead already because something supernatural would’ve killed them while they were standing there gaping at it.

“No wonder you weren’t scared of the stake.” Bobby said suddenly. His words made Gabriel chuckle and had Sam wanting to roll his eyes. “Which one are ya, then?”

It wasn’t Gabriel who answered. It was Sam. “Gabriel.” He stared right at his favorite brother and felt the grace inside of him pulse a little. Grief, regret, love, so many different things, twisting and swirling around inside of him in a nauseating mix. They made his voice ache slightly as he said “His name is Gabriel.”

“And who’re you, then? Which one of you is possessing my boy, huh?”

Hearing Bobby refer to him as ‘my boy’ stole Sam’s breath away for a moment. He knew Bobby cared about them, but it was the little things like that, so casually done, that never failed to fluster either one of the Winchester boys. It meant even more to Sam now. He might’ve had two Fathers who didn’t want him, but he at least had this one here who loved him even though he didn’t have to. Hopefully he’d still feel the same when he found out the truth. “Technically, no one.” Sam said slowly. When he saw the temper light up more than a few faces, and how Gabriel’s expression darkened a little, he hurried to explain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s complicated but I shouldn’t have… right. Bad timing for humor.” Real bad timing. “Just, uh… listen, promise me you’ll at least hear me out before you start judging, please? Just, let me explain.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to say something, most likely to argue, only to be cut off by a sharp look from Bobby. When he was sure Dean would be quiet, he turned back to Sam and nodded. Gabriel gave a nod of his own as well.

 _Here goes nothing._ No more waiting. It was time for him to start explaining things, and there was every likelihood it wasn’t going to go well at all. All Sam could do was tilt his chin up and brace himself for what he knew was going to come. “They call me Lucifer.”

The outcry wasn’t anything he didn’t expect. Three different voices started talking all at the same time. It made Sam ache to see how Ellen actually drew back just the slightest bit from him. Bobby was saying something and Dean was on his feet now, glaring and giving a loud “Bullshit! That’s it, Bobby – no! No! I’m calling bullshit!” His furious voice overrode everything else and silenced them all. When he spun back to Sam, he was glaring hotly at him. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here or what kind of game you’re playing, but there’s no way you’re the devil. I heard you guys before. If angels are actually real, you said they need permission to enter a vessel, and I know my Sammy. There’s no way he’d let Satan in!”

Unable to stop it, a scowl twisted Sam’s features. “I hate those names. Devil. Satan. My name is _Lucifer_. Or, well, it was. I still feel more like _Sam_ than anything else.”

“It’s Lucifer.” Gabriel told them, cutting off any chance of anymore arguments. “The demon blood in his system hid it from me before, but it’s gone now and I can see it. I know my brother’s grace.” The normal humor was gone from his eyes and they were sharp as they stayed fixed on Sam’s face. That gaze left Sam feeling open and exposed. Gabriel could see straight through him, right down inside of him, and Sam wasn’t used to that sensation. Not anymore. As if he understood that, one corner of Gabriel’s mouth twitched upwards in a smirk that didn’t carry any real mirth into it.

That seemed to be just a little too much for Dean. He paced away, only to spin back towards Gabriel with a look on his face that was just short of pleading. It broke Sam’s heart to see it there. “This is just another one of your stupid tricks. There’s no way my brother is freaking _Lucifer._ Sammy’s the one that’s always arguing for the humanity in things! He’s the one that believes there’s good in people.”

“Because _you_ taught me that.” Sam said.

His words seemed to surprise Dean. He stopped yelling, at least. “What?”

“You taught me that, Dean.” Sam repeated. He pushed forward until he was sitting on the edge of the couch. Arms on his knees, he clasped his hands together, holding on to himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. “You taught me that there are good people out there. Even if you don’t believe it all the time, even if you’ve hated how naïve you think it makes me, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have learned how to be as open and caring as I am. You’re the reason I am who I am now, Dean.” His brother had raised him and shaped him into the man he was – a man who was seemingly at such odds with the archangel he was supposed to be.

The story that Sam knew he had to tell wasn’t going to be an easy one. He dropped his gaze down to his joined hands and let out a shaky breath. Archangel or not, his body was still human enough that it could feel exhaustion, could _ache_ , and oh man was his head ever throbbing. Add on the way that his grace was hurting inside of him as the two pieces in there tried to join together and, well, it was hard to sit here and be still. Hard not to clutch at his own hands until his nails broke the skin.

He tried his best not to let any of that show in his voice as he began to explain. “For those of you who don’t know, you need to understand that… God locked Lucifer, me, away a long time ago. A really long time ago. There was a war,” _countless brothers dying, screaming, pleading for it to stop, demanding he turn himself over_ , “and I, lost. My Father built a Cage down in the deepest pits of Hell, and…” Here he had to pause, had to work to swallow the lump that built in his throat. His eyes burned and he had to close them to keep the sudden embarrassing tears from falling. His voice was a croak when he said “Michael threw me in there and locked me away.” The others had been there, yes, but it had been Michael who’d done the most. Michael whose betrayal still felt like it was going to destroy him.

“ **Heylel**.” Gabriel’s voice was low and full of an old ache.

Hearing that, combined with his old name, had Sam wincing. He ignored it and hurried on. Things weren’t going to get any easier if he waited.

“I spent eons down there in that Cage. Longer than any of you can begin to understand. It was…” Hell. It was Hell. There was no better term for it. “I did everything I could to try and break out of there. But a Cage made by God Himself, yeah, getting out of there isn’t really going to happen. It didn’t stop me from trying, though, and eventually I – I made a crack.”

He could actually feel it as Gabriel started to pay more attention. The ache that had been there before was pushed back and Sam snuck a look up, watching as Gabriel dropped his leg from the armrest and sat up straight in his chair. “You _cracked_ it?”

Sam nodded slowly. “It wasn’t much. But it, uh, it was enough. Enough to rip off a piece of my grace and send it out.” At the confused looks he got, he hurried to explain “That light we were talking about before that makes us up, it’s called grace. It’s kind of like a human soul, only, more. So much more.”

“So you’re telling me you ripped off a piece of your soul and shoved it out of your Cage, in _Hell_.” Dean repeated.

Again, Sam nodded. At his brother’s raised eyebrows, he gave a sheepish sort of shrug. “To be fair, I wasn’t, uh, thinking all that clearly at that point. I don’t think I was all that… sane.”

“How’s this end up with you here?” Ellen asked.

It was a good question. Sam flattened his hands and rubbed his palms against one another in a gesture only Dean would recognize as being a nervous one. “My grace sort of, free floated for a while. It didn’t really have any sort of destination or anything like that. This is, uh, this is going to sound bad, but, mostly I figured I could use that bit to either attach to some demon, or get some human to agree to house it, and then I could use that person to help steer things to set me free. It just didn’t quite work out like I’d planned.” For the next part to make sense, Sam knew he was going to have to explain a little bit. “Angels require vessels to be on earth, but archangels are a little different. We need True Vessels. They’re humans that are made to house us without exploding. That little piece of my grace, it floated to the bloodline that houses my vessels, and right at the moment of conception it latched on to the newest child being born before a soul had a chance to be placed.”

“Your grace became the soul.” Gabriel said, understanding in every inch of him. “It couldn’t have been that big of a piece, if the body accepted it as a soul.”

Sam’s lips quirked up in a mirthless smile. “It was broken and tattered. Best as I can tell, it fused with the body and started to heal itself, but it probably would’ve looked like a soul at first glance for quite a while. Then, well… Azazel. Putting demon blood in me worked to hide the grace as it began to heal.”

That seemed to make some things make sense for Gabriel “Yeah. I had no idea who you were when I first met you guys. I couldn’t see anything about you.”

“My whole plan hinged on me remembering who I was. I was so sure I was going to, but…I didn’t. Not really.” Some things about his childhood that had been confusing before were now starting to make sense. One thing in particular, though – he locked eyes with Dean and explained one thing that had always been a part of their lives. “Those nightmares I had?” No need to clarify which ones. His brother knew instantly. “Those were bits of the Cage peeking through. My grace wasn’t strong enough to connect during the day, but at night, in a dreamscape, they connected. I wasn’t technically dreaming, I was just – getting a glimpse back home, I guess you’d say.”

This was the point that Sam could see it finally hit ‘too much’ for Dean. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t have to. Sam knew him better than anyone and he saw just how done Dean was at the moment. When his brother turned around and walked away, it wasn’t any real surprise to Sam. He gave Bobby a sad smile. “It’s a lot to take in. He’ll be back once he’s worked some of it out in his head.”

“I’ll go keep an eye on him.” Ellen murmured. She touched Bobby’s arm lightly, and gave Sam a slightly suspicious look, and then she set out after him. Sam could’ve told her that it wouldn’t work. That Dean wouldn’t talk to anyone. He had a feeling she knew that, though. That she mostly just needed an excuse to step out as well.

That left Sam, Bobby, and Gabriel together in the living room. Right then Sam honestly wanted nothing more than to go and sleep somewhere for the next week or two. He felt _exhausted_. Today had been – it’d just been too much. So many things that had been forgotten were now back in his head. The memories of lifetimes were trying to sort themselves out in his mind and it was a lot to take in. His headache had moved up to a steady pounding of drums all along the inside of his skull, and all through his grace came the sharper pain where the tears had yet to heal. Absently, he lifted a hand and rubbed at his chest. None of that even touched on what else he could feel right now.

“You all right, Sam?”

Hearing Bobby’s concern had Sam looking up. He found Bobby watching him, worry plain on his face. It was echoed on Gabriel’s as well. Grimacing, Sam dropped his hand. “Yeah.” At their suspicious looks, he managed a small chuckle. “I’m fine, really. My grace is just – adjusting. When I… when I died at Cold Oak, the rest of me felt it and I ripped off more grace and shoved it out that crack as best as I could. It was just enough to bond together with what I already had and bring my body back. But I wasn’t exactly gentle when I did it. It’s going to take a bit to heal.” That was a simplified version, and one look at Gabriel told him that his brother wasn’t happy with it. “ **Be at peace, Gabriel. They barely understand what our grace is. It would take too much to explain this in a way they would understand, and it would only cause them more distress.** ”

“You need to sleep.” Gabriel said, either ignoring what Sam had said or choosing not to comment on it. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch until you give it a chance to heal, and sleep is the best way for a human body to do that.” He had that look on his face that was almost as potent in a vessel as it was on his True Form. It was one that said he wasn’t going to be moved on this. _Overprotective little shit._ The thought was tinged with warm fondness.

Bobby seemed to be on Gabriel’s side. He was nodding his head. “Seems right to me. Why don’t you go on an get some rest, Sam? I’ll handle your brother when he comes back in. Some time to let this all settle might do us all come good. Besides, if we got any questions I’m sure your other brother here can answer them. Aint that right?”

“Do I look like Wikipedia to you, Grampa?” Gabriel asked, eyebrow arched. Then he waved a hand before Bobby could say anything. “Forget it. You probably don’t even know what that is and it ruins my joke completely. I’ll answer some of your questions, if I feel like it. Now, _you_.” He fixed his eyes on Sam. “Go to bed.”

Sam knew what was coming the instant before it happened. Gabriel lifted a hand and snapped – and Sam appeared upstairs in the bedroom he and Dean always shared, right on the bed. He didn’t bother shaking his head or protesting it. He _was_ tired. Besides, Bobby would keep everything under control downstairs. He’d keep Gabriel in line even if the archangel didn’t think so. Standing up to Bobby’s disapproving glare was easier said than done. With all that in mind, Sam slid himself down under the covers and then pulled them up to his chin. Just a few hours of sleep, that was all he needed. A few hours for his head to finish sorting itself out and his grace to heal a little more.

Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

It took quite a while of stomping around the salvage yard for Dean to finally burn out the wellspring of energy and emotions that had filled him. The past few days had just been – it was too much. Too many things had happened. Sam’s powers getting stronger, crazier, him _dying_ and then coming back, the seizures and strangeness, and then the Hellgate and Yellow Eyes.

Yellow Eyes was dead. He was _dead_. As much as everything else preyed on Dean’s mind, that one thought stuck out and he couldn’t help how his heart leapt at it. The bastard that had killed their mom, killed Jess, was _dead_ , and he wasn’t coming back. That hadn’t been an exorcism that sent him back down to Hell. That had been body-on-the-ground, no one’s home, _dead_. Any other time and Dean would be celebrating. He and Sammy would be out getting drunk off their asses, wishing Dad were here so that he could see that it was done, he was finally dead.

Only, instead, Dean was here wandering Bobby’s salvage yard, processing the fact that freaking _angels were real_ , and, oh yeah, his brother was one! Not just any angel, either – an archangel. _Lucifer_.

It was too much. This was just too damn much.

The worst part was, there was no way Dean could stand here and deny it. No matter how much he kept trying, his mind went back to that image he’d seen as the trickster – Gabriel – had flashed the shadows of wings through the room. Immense, awe-inspiring wings. How could he deny those? He’d seen them with his own eyes. They hadn’t been much, sure. Just shadows. But apparently their light was blinding to humans so, whatever.

Thinking that angels were real was hard enough for Dean to reconcile. It took a lot of swearing and kicking the shit out of a broken-down rust heap of a truck. Eventually, though, he worked past that. But how the hell was he supposed to work past Sammy being _the devil_? His sweet brother who saved a nest of vamps who didn’t feed on humans. The kid who would catch a bug and _carry it outside_ instead of squash it. And Dean was supposed to believe that kid was the actual Satan? How was – how did that even work? It didn’t make sense!

“You’re thinking too hard about it.”

The sound of _that_ voice had Dean scowling. “Why don’t you piss off?” Dean demanded as he turned around to face Gabriel. The trickster – no, freaking _archangel_ – was leaning against the edge of the nearby garage. His usual smirk was on his face and Dean was half tempted to try and punch it off. It probably wouldn’t do much, but it’d make him feel better.

Gabriel’s smirk grew even more. “Try it. I haven’t had a human break their hand on my face in ages.”

The fact that Dean wasn’t sure if he was joking or not was enough to stay his hand. He wouldn’t exactly put it past the guy to let him break his hand on his face just for fun. Suddenly, it kicked in that he hadn’t made that threat _out loud_ and his eyes went wide. Gabriel, that little bastard, started to chuckle. “You humans, you think so _loud_.” His chuckle turned into an outright laugh. “Oooh! Listen to you now, Deano! Those are some pretty creative threats you’ve got going on in there. Mind if I steal a few?”

“I’m gonna shoot your ass!” Dean snarled out. He reached for his gun, only to have Gabriel vanish on him.

A sound behind him had him spinning around. Gabriel was on the hood of a truck now, legs crossed under him and his body weight resting back a bit on one arm. His other hand was holding a sucker that he used to point at Dean with. “You know, like I told you before, I like you boys. You’re never dull, that’s for sure.”

As tempting as it was to actually go through with it and shoot the guy, being, _thing_ , Dean slid his gun back into the back of his jeans and settled for giving Gabriel his best glare. “What the hell do you want, Gabriel? Or do you prefer Loki?”

Instead of bothering him, the question just made the guy shrug. “Either one works. I’ll always be Gabriel, but I’ve been Loki for a long time.” Sticking the sucker in his mouth, Gabriel leaned back on his other hand as well. His eyes were oddly sharp as they stayed focused on Dean, though. It was the same look he’d noticed the last time they’d dealt with him back at Crawford Hall. That strange way he had of adopting the most relaxed or insolent pose possible while all the while watching with an intelligence that people probably didn’t notice. It was a familiar pose to Dean – he used it often enough himself.

The corners of Gabriel’s mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a grin. Instead, his smirk stayed firmly in place, though it seemed to get a little less mocking and a bit more, real. “That tough chick, Ellen, she was on her way out here to check on you, but I figured the last thing you needed was someone who was going to tell you to watch your language or to calm down.”

That was almost – nice. Dean couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “And you care – why?”

“Who knows?” Gabriel said, shrugging. He switched the sucker from one side of his mouth to the other, making the stick bob a little as it moved. “Maybe I just figure we should try and get along. Seeing as how we’re sort of brothers now.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Dean grimaced at that thought. Him and the pipsqueak, brothers? “Hell no.” There was no way they were going to be considered family!

“I’m not denying that Sam’s still your brother, kiddo, but he’s mine, too.”

“I don’t even know if I believe any of the crap you two were spouting off in there.” Dean shot back at him. “For all I know, you’re playing some kind of elaborate trick, and you’ve been screwing with Sammy’s head.” He didn’t really believe it, and he knew that Gabriel knew it. The almost sympathetic look that the archangel gave him made that clear.

Shifting himself forward so that his arms could rest on his legs, Gabriel turned just a bit more serious than before, a look that was still so strange to see on the freaking _trickster_. “Look. I’m not here to argue faith with you, kiddo. Either you’re going to believe or you aren’t. I’m out here to find some sort of peace between us, because we’re going to be seeing a whole lot of each other. Like I said, Sammy’s your brother, but he’s _mine_ , too, and I’m not walking away. Not when I’ve got my brother here in a way he hasn’t been since before he took the Mark.”

“The Mark?”

The way that Gabriel’s eyes darted down and away made it clear that this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, or something that he’d meant to say. Before Dean could even think about pressing for more information – if it concerned Sammy, it concerned him! – the sound of a scream caught all his attention and had his head snapping towards the house. He knew who that was, just as he knew what that sound meant. “Sammy.” In a flash, Dean was running, not caring that Gabriel had flown ahead of him. His legs carried him quickly into the house and right past Ellen and Bobby, straight up the stairs that took him to the room he knew Sam would be in.

As soon as the door snapped open, he took in the scene with one quick, professional sweep of his eyes. Sam was sitting up straight in bed, jerking back from Gabriel’s touch and cowering, pleading brokenly in the gibberish that Dean was so familiar with, tears streaming down his cheeks. Gabriel was looking at him in a broken sort of way, one hand extended out as if he couldn’t quite help reaching out to him.

“Get back.” Dean said quickly. That was all the focus he wasted for Gabriel. The next second he was up on the bed and reaching out for Sam, already letting out the familiar stream of soothing words. “You’re all right, Sammy, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Just like always, Sam started to melt against him the instant that Dean got hold of him. He ended up plastering himself up against Dean’s chest, hands clenching at his shirt, and Dean noticed absently how those giant hands still managed to find the perfect grip in his shirt the same as they had when he was just a tiny little scrap of a kid. He also noticed they were a bit thinner than he liked. Dean carefully wrapped his arms around the kid and made sure that one hand was at the back of his head so he could scratch in his hair while his other hand settled around Sam’s shoulder. Against his neck he felt more than heard Sam’s low “ _De’n_ ” It wasn’t a request for attention, wasn’t a plea for anything, just a reassurance that Dean was the one with him.

“Yeah, tiger, it’s me.” There was so much gentleness in Dean as he tipped his head and pressed his cheek against Sam’s hair. The tremors were shaking his brother from head to toe, vibrating the bed, but Dean could see that nothing in the room was shaking. He looked to Gabriel, who still stood in the room, and arched an eyebrow at him.

The archangel was pressed back against the wall, hands balled into fists in a way that Dean would bet was done to keep him from trying to reach out in some way. It was obvious that he wanted to help and just didn’t know how. The anguished look in his eyes – that did more towards cooling Dean’s temper towards him than anything the guy had said outside. Emotion like that couldn’t be faked.

Gabriel either understood Dean’s unasked question or he picked it up out of his mind, because he softly said “I’m shielding the room. I didn’t think you’d want everything flying around.”

Not like it’d be the first time. Dean didn’t say that, though. Instead, as he felt another tremor shake Sam even harder, he tipped his chin towards the blankets that had fallen on the floor. “Mind passing those up? He’s usually freezing after these.” A soft sound against his chest had him hurrying to softly reassure his brother “Shh, shh, you’re all right. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, little brother.” And this _was_ his little brother. Dean couldn’t deny that as he sat here and held him. He didn’t give a damn who or what else Sam was – he was his little pain-in-the-ass brother and nothing was going to change that.

Gabriel brought the blankets up and softly shook them out before reaching out to lay them over Sam. When part of the blanket got close to Sam’s back, Dean’s hand shot out and caught it, earning him a startled look. “Keep them away from his back unless you wanna set him off all over again.”

The anguish in Gabriel’s eyes flared brighter and his hands briefly clenched. Then it was all hidden behind a blank mask, and he nodded at Dean.

It took a few more blankets and a bit more reassurances before they got Sam semi settled down. He wasn’t relaxing all the way, though, and Dean knew what he wanted. What always worked to relax him. As much as he hated the idea of doing this in front of Gabriel – the guy had already seen way too much here that was _personal_ – he didn’t let it stop him from adjusting his hold on Sam and shifting them until his giant of a baby brother was stretched out on top of him and Dean was free to better scratch at the kid’s scalp. Then, deliberately _not_ looking at Gabriel, Dean began to softly sing. “Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right.” He felt Sam start to relax over him and he knew the words were working the same magic they always had. Knowing that helped him to keep going and continue to ignore their silent observer. “Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right. Little darlin’, the smiles returning to the faces.” Just like always, he brought his one hand up and let it brush over Sam’s cheeks, his lips, getting that same almost-smile as always. “Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say – it’s all right.”

By the time Dean looked up again, Sam was once more asleep, and Gabriel was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

The humans in the house seemed to have come to some sort of silent agreement with each other to put off everything until tomorrow. Dean came out of his and Sam’s room only long enough to make a few sandwiches, nod at Bobby, and then head back upstairs. Ellen left, after a quiet goodbye with Bobby on the porch and a promise to keep quiet everything that had been said here – not that Gabriel left that to chance. The others were going to be pissed off, but Gabriel discreetly and carefully removed any memories of Sam being Lucifer from Ellen’s mind before she even got out of the salvage yard. If she thought about it at all later, she wouldn’t remember a thing about it. She’d just think that they’d killed Azazel with the Colt and then closed the Hellgate. Gabriel wasn’t going to risk anyone finding out about his big brother before they were ready for it.

Once she was gone, Bobby went to his room and shut himself inside, leaving Gabriel on his own. Any other time and the archangel might’ve just flown out of there and maybe come back in the morning. Maybe. There was no denying that the urge to flee was strong. Gabriel’s survival instinct was pretty well set to ‘flight’ instead of ‘fight’. Staying here, it was going to be one giant mess, and he’d be stuck in it if he didn’t go. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not when Lucifer was lying upstairs. Not when he had the chance to see his brother, even just part of him, free of the taint that the Mark had left on his grace.

Gabriel occupied some of his time by warding the property as best as he was able. He made sure to include the whole salvage yard in those wards. It wasn’t easy, but he was pretty sure keeping these guys trapped inside was a bad plan, and until they knew what they were going to do it was better to keep them safe.

There were so many worries about what their future held. What did this mean for Lucifer? For the Apocalypse? What was going to happen now? Lucifer didn’t need to get permission for his True Vessel. He’d ripped out his grace and was _born_ into his damn True Vessel. If he got back the rest of his grace, he’d be powerful – and dangerous.

Hours passed as Gabriel sat on the porch and ran over everything that had happened and everything that might still happen. To him, to them, to _everyone_. If Michael found out that Lucifer already walked the earth – there’d be war. He’d bring himself down here to fight him even if Lucifer wasn’t fully free because he believed that it was what was right. That it was what their Father wanted. It wouldn’t matter to him that Lucifer was so much like his old self right now. That whatever taint the Mark had put on his grace, it wasn’t _here_. It had to be still attached to the grace in the Cage.

The Cage.

Pain lanced through Gabriel. He closed his vessel’s eyes and locked down any outward reaction from showing. No one who looked at him would even begin to guess just how much he was hurting.

With Lucifer’s mind still blocked off to him, Gabriel hadn’t been able to see the dreams that he was having, but he had felt his brother’s terror, and he’d been able to understand the words that everyone else seemed to think were just gibberish. They weren’t. Gabriel had understood every single bit of the Enochian that his brother had been using as he’d begged and pleaded for someone to come and save him, to help him, to not hurt him. As he’d begged Michael not to leave him there alone.

This was what they’d done to him. All of them were responsible. Father had built the Cage, and Michael had cast Lucifer inside, but the rest of them had done nothing to stop it. They’d done nothing to protect a brother who’d only ever cared for them when he’d been himself. That poison in him, that was the Mark, that was dear old Aunt Amara seeping through her prison and tainting him, twisting him into something that he wasn’t ever meant to be. The Light Bringer, turned into a herald of the dark.

Gabriel had consoled himself plenty of times over the millennia with the knowledge that it wasn’t his brother anymore that was in the Cage. That what was left of their Heylel was gone. Now – now he knew better. Now that he’d heard Lucifer’s screams and pleas as he begged not to be left alone, and he’d watched a single human offer the comfort that the entire Host hadn’t done. That, more than anything else, guaranteed that Gabriel couldn’t run. Not anymore. Even if he hadn’t planned on staying before, that alone would’ve guaranteed it.

“Those look like some deep thoughts.”

Gabriel startled out of his thoughts and jerked his head up. He was stunned to find Lucifer standing in the doorway, smiling at him. Or – wait. There was a very human look in his eyes at that moment, mixed in with the things that Gabriel remembered. Feeling a bit defensive at being caught off guard, Gabriel couldn’t resist a bit of sarcasm as he asked ‘To what do I owe the honor, Luci? Or is it Sam? I can’t quite tell.”

His words didn’t seem to bother his brother at all. In fact, he shrugged, never once losing his little smile. “If I’m being honest, I feel like both, but… I like being Sam. It’s easier.” Pushing off the doorframe, he made his way over to where Gabriel was perched on the railing. Instead of looming over him or even sitting, he leaned against the post that was near Gabriel’s feet, shoulder propped against it while his eyes were turned outwards. “I kind of feel like I’m two people in the same body right now. The memories, they’re merging, but… I don’t know. I know I’m Lucifer, and sometimes I feel like it, but sometimes I just, I feel like Sam.” A corner of his mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating grin that Gabriel could admit was pure Sam Winchester. “Besides, given a choice I’d rather be the boy with the demon blood than the father of all sin.”

That had Gabriel’s eyebrows shooting up. “It’s hard to believe any part of the guy I knew would admit to preferring to be known as a human.”

“Why not?” Sam asked softly. “He’s the better part of me. At least he’s not evil, no matter how much our families tried to make him be.”

Gabriel winced; he couldn’t help it.

He watched as Sam turned to look at him, and those eyes – they were so old in that moment, and so sad. There was grace behind them that touched Gabriel in ways he’d fought so hard not to feel for so long. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with that.”

“You didn’t.” Gabriel insisted immediately.

The soft huff that Sam made as he turned to look out over the yard again made it clear he didn’t believe that. He let it go, though. “It’s weird, being here. I mean, I know I’m Sam. That hasn’t gone away despite what all of you think. But, I know I’m Lucifer, too. I feel it, all jumbled together inside my head, twisting this way and that as they try to fit back together. I feel it in here.” His hand lifted and rubbed against his chest. The small wince didn’t go unnoticed, either, and Gabriel felt sympathy. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his grace felt like after being ripped apart like that.

He couldn’t afford to be soft yet, though. Not until he knew what was going on. “What do you plan on doing?”

“I won’t lie, I want my grace back.” Sam told him. He rubbed one last time at his chest and then lifted both arms and crossed them as if to keep himself from doing it again. He still didn’t look over at Gabriel. “There are huge chunks of me missing, Gabriel. Is it wrong to want them back? I don’t even have enough for my…” The words cut off and Sam had to pause. Swallow down whatever it was in his throat. When he spoke again, he was once more in control, but he sounded so much more tired than before. “I want back those parts of me, but I don’t want everything. I don’t want to become that being again. Not that it matters. We both know how the first seal needs to be broken, and I won’t let anything happen to Dean.”

“He’s not the only Righteous Man and you know it.” John Winchester was still down there. Amazing as it was that he hadn’t broken yet, he would eventually. They all did. “Once he does, that first seal is broken and it all starts. What then?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.” Pushing himself up, Gabriel fixed his brother with a hard stare. “If I’m going to stick around and attach myself to this sideshow, I damn well deserve to know what I’m signing myself up for. I’m not looking to put my life on the line for you, only to end up having you decide that killing Mikey and wiping out humans is really what you want to do.” He spread his hands out and watched Sam’s face carefully. “Give me one good reason to stick around here, _Sam_. Just one.”

So many different emotions passed over Sam’s face. When he finally closed his eyes and bowed his head, it was with such heartbreaking sadness. “I can’t.”

What made those two words all the harder to hear was that Gabriel could tell he meant it. He really couldn’t think of any reason to give for Gabriel to stay. He didn’t even try and play the ‘you’re my brother’ card, nor did he bring up what they’d once been to one another. How close they’d been. So far, they’d avoided that topic, but he could’ve tried to use that to get Gabriel to stay, yet he wasn’t. He wasn’t offering up any of it. Either he didn’t believe he should, or that he didn’t have the right, or it never even occurred to him at all –any of those options were painful.

“I can’t make you stay or go.” The words came out slow and just a bit tight, as if they hurt to say, yet Sam forced them out anyways. “But I, I want you to know that, no matter what choice you make...” He trailed off, breath shaky.

Without realizing it, Gabriel leaned forward a little more. His eyes stayed intent on Sam’s face. “What?”

Sam licked his lips and slowly tilted his head up until they could look at one another. There were no shields up in Sam’s eyes. If he’d had his wings, they would’ve been wrapping around the two of them, sheltering Gabriel close just like he’d done so many times before. “ **No matter what choice you make, I will still love you, just as I always have.** ” Sam brought one hand up and he brushed his fingertips ever so lightly over Gabriel’s cheek, making him shiver. One corner of his mouth quirked a bit. “ **I owe apologies to so many, yet none more than you. My little songbird. I am so sorry. The words cannot ever be enough, yet they are all I have to give.** ”

Those fingers brushed, feather soft, over Gabriel’s cheek one more time. The younger archangel sat completely still as Sam straightened up. For a brief second Sam paused; then he bent in and pressed a soft kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. Without another word he turned around and walked away and Gabriel found he could only sit there and watch him go.

* * *

Speaking with Gabriel like that wasn’t easy for Sam. None of this was. But that was an apology that was long overdue. One that was more important than any other he was going to make. He wasn’t sure if Gabriel was going to accept it or if it would piss him off. Sam just knew he’d had to say it.

There was still a little bit of time left before anyone else was going to wake up and Sam knew that Gabriel was either going to take a bit of time out there alone or he was going to vanish. Either one was a possibility. What that meant for Sam was that he didn’t really have a whole lot to do. He had his own emotions and things that needed worked through and sitting around brooding wasn’t going to do it. So he decided to make the only meal that Jess had ever claimed he could really cook. Breakfast.

The act of making it was soothing. Sam had practiced enough that he could easily make the eggs, sausage, pancakes, biscuits, and bacon. Add in the fact that he had enough grace now that he was a bit more angelic than human and the multitasking was easy. His body went through the motions with only a tiny bit of concentration required on his part. The rest of his focus was turned inwards. He couldn’t quite stop himself from thinking about the look on Gabriel’s face as they’d stood there together. When he managed to push that back, he instead found himself focusing on his brother’s question. What _was_ he going to do now?

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Gabriel he didn’t know. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do ow. He’d barely had these memories in his head! Why did he have to figure it out _right now_?

Right as he sighed, he caught the sound of footsteps making their way towards him. He turned his head to watch as Bobby came walking into the room. The man looked around him with open surprise and Sam looked as well. For the first time he realized that he hadn’t been using just his hands as he cooked. His powers were helping, floating plates over to the able, washing some of the dishes, and even flipping the bacon. It’d left Sam free to make up the biscuits. Sam opened his mouth to say something – apologize, maybe, he wasn’t quite sure – when he was stunned by Bobby simply shrugging a shoulder and walking over to the coffee pot. Sam gaped after him, not quite sure what to say or do. “Bobby?”

The man poured himself a mug of the brew and then turned to lean back against the counter and look over at Sam. He held his mug in one hand and took a drink as he looked Sam over from head to toe. “Figure I should probably get used to this.”

In there was the implication that he expected Sam to be around for him to get used to it. That he _wanted_ him around. Sam didn’t bother fighting back the smile that stretched his lips. If Bobby was still talking like that even after a night of being able to think about things, he had to really mean it, didn’t he?

Then Bobby asked a question that had Sam wanting to sigh. “How you holding up, Sam?”

Right. Because it’d been too good to be true to think that Bobby wasn’t going to worry about all of this, or about him. Just because the man was willing to accept him into his home didn’t mean he wasn’t privately freaking out about the fact that a kid he treated like a nephew – sometimes like a _son_ – was in fact the devil. Sam wasn’t quite able to keep all the bitterness out of his tone when he turned back towards the stove and focused on taking the eggs and transferring them to a plate. “I’m fine, Bobby. I’m still me in here. No random murderous impulses.”

He was caught completely off guard when Bobby’s hand connected with the back of his head. Surprised, he spun around, a protest already on his lips, only to find that Bobby was glaring at him. “Don’t be smart with me, boy. That aint what I meant at all. I wanna know how _you’re_ doing.” Bobby leaned back a little and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression softened as he carefully watched Sam’s face from underneath that dirty trucker cap. “It’s a hell of a thing you’ve had happening to you.”

Heh, a ‘hell of a thing’. Sam inwardly shook his head in amusement over the word choice. On the outside, he gave a soft sigh. It really was a hell of a thing to have happen. For all that everyone else was freaking out, no one had really noticed so far how badly _Sam_ was freaking out. Leave it to Bobby to be the one to do so. “I’m coping.” Sam finally settled on saying. His hands and powers were busy transferring most of the food to plates and shutting off the stovetop but it didn’t distract him from replying. “It’s… weird, trying to get everything to match up in my head. I keep getting dual memories when I look at something, like my brain’s still split in two – Sam and Lucifer. I mean, logically, I know they’re both me, but…”

“Logic don’t always enter into that kind of stuff.” Bobby finished for him. He nodded like this was something normal. He’d always had a way of doing that. Of taking the strange and making it seem like it was just a simple fact, not something to stress over. “Makes sense it’s not easy to get it all squared away. The way I understand it, a part of your grace was what made you to begin with, and this next part is what’s connecting you to the rest. Until those two fuse together, you’re gonna be a bit mixed up.”

Because it was Bobby, and because Sam needed to talk to someone with a level head, Sam found himself saying the worries he probably wouldn’t have voiced to anyone else, even knowing that Gabriel likely heard him outside the entire time. If he was still there, that is. “I don’t know what to do here, Bobby. I don’t know how to make the right choice. There’s a big part of me that wants so bad to go and get the rest of my grace back. Before, I didn’t know what it was that I was missing. But now?” Now, he not only knew all the parts that were missing, he could feel them. Feel how wrong he was. How broken. “I keep trying to move my wings, only to remember they’re not there. Or reach out with hands I don’t have. And it…” Dad above, it _hurt_. It hurt so much. He let out a shaky breath as he moved the plates to the table. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Is there any way we can get the rest of your grace back?”

That was such a simple question with such a loaded answer. “It’s not that simple.” He knew that Bobby was going to ask him what he meant there. But he could also hear Dean shuffling around upstairs and he knew that meant that his brother was going to be downstairs shortly. “Dean’s about to come downstairs.” Sam said, cutting off whatever Bobby was about to say or ask. “I’d rather only say this once.” It wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. He was going to have to tell his new family all about his old one. About what they’d done, what _he’d_ done, and what it meant. And he was going to have to do it in front of Gabriel. Steeling himself, Sam tried his best to prepare. This wasn’t going to be easy.


	13. Chapter 13

Settling down for breakfast was an awkward affair. There was still so much that needed to be told and it weighed on Sam’s mind. He knew the rest of them were thinking about things. Bobby and Dean were both more quiet than normal. Even Gabriel – who had come in once the two humans were seated at the table – was a bit quieter than usual. He kept sneaking looks Sam’s way as well, in a way that left Sam feeling even more on edge than before.

It wasn’t exactly an environment conducive to eating. At least, not well. But Sam, Dean, and Bobby were all hunters. They’d learned how to do things in life while being under stress. Not to mention, both Sam and Dean had learned at a very young age that food wasn’t to be wasted. If it was there, you ate it, because there was no telling when you were going to be able to get more. Those lessons were probably the only thing that got them through breakfast.

However, by the time they were done eating and their coffee cups all refreshed, Sam knew it was time to get the conversation started. He also knew he was probably going to have to be the one to start it if he wanted things to begin on a somewhat neutral note. He waited until every cup was refilled and they’d all moved to the living room, as if they’d all come to the silent agreement that it was time to talk. Then Sam sat himself against Bobby’s desk and gathered up his courage. Time to get the rest of this out.

“I know I’ve given you guys so much to think about already.” Sam started out. He cradled his mug between his hands and let his eyes drift down to it for a moment. It was a special mug that Bobby kept here just for him after Dean had teased Sam once about how tiny normal mugs looked in Sam’s big hands. The next time they’d come by, there’d been two bigger mugs in the cupboard, and Bobby had smiled to himself when Sam had used one. Seeing it now brought a soft smile to Sam’s lips. It was a nice little reminder that the people here cared about him. Hopefully, they’d withstand this conversation. “This is a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, you could say that again.” Dean said sarcastically.

Though sarcastic, the words weren’t as angry as Sam had expected, nor were they as distant as he’d feared they’d be. Sam had a feeling he knew why, too. Dean was always nicer and a bit gentler with Sam after one of his nightmares. This time was looking to be no different. As bad as it sounded, Sam wasn’t afraid to make use of that. Now was likely going to be the best time to deliver any sort of news. “I wish I could tell you guys that it’s going to be easier from here on out. I really wish I could.”

“But this kind of makes everything a whole lot more complicated.” Gabriel chimed in.

Sam shot his brother a dark look that only got him a bland smile in return. The masks that Sam had seen on Gabriel before, the ones that Lucifer had never seen on his brother, were firmly in place, and all parts of Sam hated to see that. This wasn’t the little brother that Lucifer had known in Heaven. It wasn’t the one who he’d taught to fly, or who’d taught him to truly laugh.

They were saved from any sort of arguing by Bobby once more rounding them up and bringing them back on topic. It was a job he’d done many times for Sam and Dean. “Let’s cut through the bullshit half answers and get to the core of this. What’s going on, Sam?”

“The Apocalypse.” Sam said. There wasn’t going to be any gentle way to say this. Trying to push down his own emotions, a little more of the ‘Lucifer’ side of things pushed to the forefront, making his tone a bit cooler and sharper than before. “It basically boils down to the fact that Michael and I are meant to fight one another in a battle that would take out almost the entire earth, no matter which side wins. There’s a lot that has to be done to get us there, but one of those steps was almost started back when I died at Cold Oak. It would’ve put us on the path to breaking the first seal on my prison.”

“How?” Bobby asked.

“The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell.” Sam and Gabriel quoted together. “As he breaks, so shall it break.”

“Everyone was counting on you selling your soul to bring Sammy back after he died at Cold Oak.” Gabriel continued on, focusing on Dean. There was a hint of sympathy on his face, yet his words were still straightforward and blunt.  “You’re the Righteous Man. They would’ve given you as little time as possible before sending you downstairs, and then they would’ve tortured you until you broke.”

Seeing the horrified looks on both Bobby and Dean’s faces, Sam hated that he had to keep going. But they deserved to know it all. “Time runs different in Hell. A month up here is ten years down there. You might think you would’ve held on, Dean, but they would’ve had plenty of time. Eventually, they would’ve broken you. And then, as soon as you broke and started torturing souls instead of being tortured, the seal would be broken and angels would’ve come to rescue you.”

Sam and Gabriel took turns walking the other two through the seals, explaining to them about how many there were, how many had to be broken – and who was responsible for breaking the last. As they wrapped it up, Gabriel turned to Sam and hesitated only a second before he said, as casually as possible, “I’m pretty sure our family’s been up there trying to neatly line things up for this. Something tells me they aren’t exactly going to be trying to  _ stop _ this.”

A heavy sigh slid from Sam. “Of course not.” He looked down at his cup again and felt the weight of ages settle on his shoulders. “Michael wants this battle more than anything.”

“So, wait a second,” Dean said, cutting in. He was seated on the couch and was leaning forward, arms on his knees and his eyes fixed right on Sam. “You’re telling me the only way to get you the rest of your grace is to break all these seals, but if we do that, we’re jump-starting the freakin’ apocalypse?” He paused as Sam nodded his head and then huffed out a mockery of a laugh, throwing himself back against the cushions. “What happens if you die? I’m not talking about the whole, making a deal thing. Let’s cut that out for a minute. What actually happens to you if you die?”

Sam knew what he was asking here. He just wished that his brother hadn’t been that smart. He’d really hoped no one would think of this. But, looking at him, he couldn’t lie. “Unless my grace bonds to another body, it’ll most likely get sucked right back down to the Cage.”

“Of course. So that means our choices are to either start the Apocalypse, or send you back to Hell.” The sound Dean made was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Great choices, man. Real great. There’s no other way to get your grace out? No way to, I don’t know, sneak it out, or keep sending out little pieces like you’ve been doing?”

Sam couldn’t help himself; he stared at Dean in open awe. It wasn’t hard for him to read his brother. There wasn’t a part of Dean that even remotely considered Sam going back there a possibility. Despite having just found out yesterday that his brother was  _ Lucifer _ , here he was now sitting here talking about getting Sam’s grace back like it was a foregone conclusion. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. That – that was so much more than Sam had expected. Emotion clogged his throat and he was utterly embarrassed to find that he had to blink back tears.

Something on his face must’ve given him away. Dean was looking at him strangely now, and he heard the others shifting though he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from Dean and look at them. “Sam?” Bobby asked, low and worried. “You all right, son?”

“I’m fine.” Sam said. He had to clear his throat a few times before he could get his voice out steady, but once he did he repeated the words. “I’m fine.” Before anyone could call him on the very blatant lie, he pressed on. They weren’t done yet. He could marvel over things later. “It’s even more complicated than that, Dean. Even if we could figure out a way to get my grace out without anyone else finding out, or anymore seals being broken, it’s not – it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Bobby asked.

“It’s…” How was he supposed to tell this? It wasn’t an easy story. Thinking about it  _ hurt _ , deep down through every single inch of him. As Sam let out a shaky breath, he found he couldn’t just sit there while he told them. He had to push up to his feet and pace away before he could force himself to start to speak again. “Look, to understand, you’ve got to go way back. Back to when the earth was still brand new and we were all… happy.”  _ Until I ruined it. Until I destroyed it. _ The guilt of that clawed at Sam’s insides. He closed his eyes and drew in on himself a little more. “Then something happened and I, I changed.”

“Does this have something to do with that Mark that asshole over here mentioned yesterday?”

Sam’s eyes shot open with surprise and he spun around to look first to Dean and then over to Gabriel. The other archangel still had his mask in place, so nothing showed on his face, but his eyes darted away. He wasn’t going to step in and save Sam here. No, he was just going to sit there and continue to be quiet in a way that was just, so wrong.

With shaking hands, Sam reached out and set his mug down on the desktop. He didn’t trust himself to hold it anymore. “Yeah.”

From his spot on the arm of the couch, Bobby watched Sam carefully. “What’s this Mark?”

It wasn’t Sam who started to answer that, it was Gabriel. “It’s a key to another Cage. One where we locked away Auntie Amara – Dad’s sister.”

“God has a sister?” Dean blurted out. Even Bobby looked surprised by it.

Sam nodded. “Everything out there has to have balance, Dean. Good, evil. Dark, light. She was his balance. Where He creates, she destroys.” And she had destroyed so much.  _ So did I. _ “Dad and us, we locked her away, but there had to be a seal. Something to keep her from getting out. That seal was the Mark, which he put on me.”

“His most trusted son.” Gabriel said softly.

The words brought a flash of pain to Sam. He turned away, not quite able to hide the pain on his face. “Right.” In that single word was a wealth of heartache and bitterness. He brushed past it before anyone could say anything about it. “Point is, I had the Mark until I transferred it to Cain. But by the time I did, it was too late. The damage had been done. Being the physical embodiment of that seal meant that I was what stood between Her and us. I touched both sides – dark and light. Enough of Her dark seeped out and into me that I was, changed. In a way, you could say I became the very first demon. My grace was tainted by Her. No one realized it at first, of course. They just thought I was being rebellious.”

“Humans.” Bobby said, understanding starting to dawn in his eyes. “You weren’t fond of the humans. That was because of Her?”

Much as Sam would like to go ahead and blame his dear old Aunt for that, he knew he couldn’t. Sadly, he shook his head. “No. That – that started as me. I was… jealous.” The words came out slow, like they were something he wasn’t quite sure about saying. Something that he didn’t want to admit to. Yet, he did, bringing a stunned silence over the room. None were more stunned than Gabriel, though. He stared at Sam with his mouth actually hanging open, visibly shocked at seeing him admit to his faults. Admit to something as petty as  _ jealousy _ . For the moment, Sam ignored it. These words – they needed to be said. No matter how little he wanted to say them. “I was jealous when our Father created humans. I didn’t want to like them. I most definitely didn’t want to kneel before them and worship them more than Him. Before I knew it, that jealousy grew to rage, and my rage was… immense. That was Her influence. While I didn’t like humans, I’d like to believe who I was wouldn’t have wanted this kind of destruction. But that dark inside of me, it was getting stronger, and it made so much sense. I kept pushing and pushing, rebelling more and more. By the time I started to think that there wasn’t something right with me, it was too late. I, I went to Michael and I told him something was wrong. With me.”

He’d done more than that. He’d managed to push back the rage that he’d felt so often. The one that had spurred him into creating demons, into doing so many horrible things. He’d pushed it back and brought himself to his brother, away from everyone, and he’d knelt there in front of him and begged Michael to help him.

When Sam looked up again, his eyes found Gabriel first. Any signs of Gabriel’s masks were long gone. His face was open and his emotions raw and out there for anyone to see. “I never knew that.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder. “What good would it have served?”

“What’d he say to you?” Dean asked. His voice was quieter, more subdued, as if he sensed just how badly this was going to go.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Sam turned away from them. “He told me I was right – there was something wrong with me. And he cast me down.” What little control that had been left in Sam back then had been lost after that. He hadn’t cared to fight that dark anymore. He’d let it consume him and he’d done horrible things with it right up until the moment that he’d been captured and locked away. Pushing down those memories, Sam fought for some sort of control now. This wasn’t the time to break. He was so tired of breaking. He just – he wanted to get this done. He wanted this conversation over. That determination cooled his voice once more. “The point is, the bits of my grace I ripped off and sent out of the Cage aren’t tainted by that darkness. The first piece, it might’ve been, but it – it healed as I grew up. I don’t feel it there anymore. And this new piece is the same way. It doesn’t have any of that darkness to it. But if you open up the Cage and let the rest of my grace out, you’re letting out the devil you were all afraid I was.”

The room felt too confined suddenly. Too enclosed. Sam had to get out of here. He knew he’d done a lot of running away lately, but he needed to – he just needed to breathe. Just for a minute. Before his control slipped and the room around him started to tremble and shake.

Without a word, he spun and marched out the door, not even bothering to say anything to anyone he left behind.

* * *

The world felt like it had shifted at some point under Dean’s feet. No, not just shifted. Tossed and turned and flipped him all around. Everything he’d thought he’d known, it was all getting proved wrong, and more and more shit just kept getting piled up on top. His brain was having a hard time processing everything. But there was one thing that came through pretty damn clear, and Dean had no problem voicing that thought out loud. “Your brother sounds like a dick.”

Gabriel turned to look at Dean, eyebrows up in a look of surprise. Then he rolled his eyes. “Be a bit more specific there, kiddo. I’ve got a lot of them.”

“Michael.” Dean spat out. “He sounds like a giant dick.” Your brother comes to you telling you that they think they’re something wrong with them, you help them, simple as that. Whatever problems are between you don’t matter at that point. They can be taken care of later. If Lucifer came to him saying that he thought something was wrong, Michael should’ve helped fix it, not cast him down.

He watched as temper flashed across Gabriel’s face, only to get pushed down. Then something that looked like resignation was there, tinged with sadness. “Yeah. I’m starting to get that.”

“Is there any way we can fix this?” Bobby asked. He looked thoughtful as he watched Gabriel. “I mean, I’m sure you guys tried it before, but with him down in the Cage like this, is there any way you could pull out his grace and just leave the broken parts behind?”

Dean latched onto the idea immediately. “Yeah. Kind of like cutting off an infected leg or something. The rest of him would still work fine, but that broken part would stay behind and be locked away.”

The way that Gabriel stared at them had Dean shifting around uncomfortably. His eyes were wide and his mouth actually hung open a little. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, which was just another reminder that this being in front of him wasn’t human. All in all, he looked like he’d been sucker punched. After a few failed starts, the archangel finally managed to say “Well shit.” Then he sat back in his seat and, though he didn’t look shocked anymore, he still stared at them in a contemplative sort of way. It reminded Dean of how Sam looked when an idea really got into his head and he had to think it through on every angle. “You know – that just might work.” Gabriel finally said. He grimaced, though, and it set Dean on edge. “The only thing is, awesome as I am I don’t think this is something I could do. Not alone, at least. I’m no Healer.”

“Is there anyone else that’d be willing to help, considering who we’re talkin’ about?” Bobby asked bluntly.

The softer lines on Gabriel’s face went hard in a look of pure determination. His eyes flashed with a light that reminded Dean of the trickster they’d first met, only, more. More power. “There might be. If I can manage to talk him down, I think I can get him on our side. And if there’s anyone that can help us, it’d be him.” Abruptly, Gabriel pushed up to his feet, his chair vanishing behind him. Any signs of seriousness were gone from him. He was grinning at them as he clapped his hands together in front of him. “Well! No point in wasting time, right? You chuckleheads explain everything to Sammy boy out there while I go and talk to our potential friend before Sam finds out what I’m doing. I’ll be back!” And, with a snap, he was gone.

Dean stared at the spot that the trickster had just vanished from. Then he shook his head before giving Bobby a wry look. “Why do I get the feeling we’ve got the harder job?” He asked. The only answer he got was a snort.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get this chapter now because I'm really excited and really nervous about it. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also, this catches me up on chapters. I have no more pre-written, so updates might slow SOME, but trust me, this story just keeps going and I have what's left mapped out, plus a good friend helping me along the way :)

The first place that Gabriel went to was one of his safe houses. What he planned on doing wasn’t something that he could just rush into. He needed to plan it out a little bit. There were multiple ways that he could speak with the person he needed to and he wanted to take the time to really figure out the best one. It wasn’t like he could just stroll up to Heaven’s greatest healer and casually ask for his help.

When Bobby and Dean had come up with their insane, amazing, _brilliant_ idea, Gabriel had been stunned by the sheer simplicity of it. During his time on earth he’d seen a lot in the way of human medicine. Taking that knowledge and what the humans had suggested, he could see the beginning of a plan on how to potentially save his brother without dooming the world. If they could really do it, cut off the part of Lucifer’s grace where the mark was branded, they might be able to keep that part locked down inside of the Cage and let Lucifer walk free with the rest of it. It wouldn’t be easy, though, and they’d have to do it in a way that made sure all of that darkness was gone, as well as making sure that the piece they left behind wasn’t going to stay connected to Lucifer. Bad enough that Gabriel had to watch now as Sam suffered nightmares – _dreams of himself, connecting back to his grace down in the Cage –_ he wasn’t going to condemn his brother to an eternity of that.

How was it that none of them had ever thought of this before? Why hadn’t they ever tried to separate that part from Lucifer and lock that piece away? No, instead of helping him, they’d condemned him, locking him away. Gabriel had forced himself to think of it as little as possible over the long years. He’d forced himself to believe that his Lucifer was gone. But now, looking at Sam – all the years of denial fell away. The guilt that was eating at his insides was enough to make his vessel sick.

Now wasn’t the time to focus on that. Right now, he needed to focus on what he could fix, not the things he couldn’t.

There were only two real options here. Calling Raphael down to earth or making a trip up to Heaven to talk with him. Neither one was without risk. Calling Raphael down here meant that Gabriel was going to have to reveal he was alive to his brother and run the risk of Raphael telling anyone, plus he’d have to wait for his brother to get a vessel and then come to him, and there was no telling who he’d bring with him. Going to Heaven meant that Gabriel ran the risk of running into, well, _anyone_. But – he knew back ways into Heaven. Ways that no one else did. He and Lucifer had discovered so many of them a long time ago. Plus, he’d learned a lot during his years on earth, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to keep his grace almost perfectly hidden while up there.

The idea of returning home was a bittersweet one. He’d left after the Wars, after Lucifer’s imprisonment, because he couldn’t stand to be in the middle of all that fighting anymore, and he couldn’t look at a Heaven that didn’t have the one he cared about so much in it. It seemed kind of fitting that the thing to finally make him go back home was that very same brother.

A little tingle in Gabriel’s grace warned him of an incoming prayer just as he was preparing to leave – no point in wasting time. He paused long enough to listen as Sam’s voice, Lucifer’s voice, washed over him. _“Gabriel, I hope you haven’t locked down things so much that you can’t hear this. Please – come back. Dean and Bobby told me what it is they want to do, and it sounds like a good plan, but we need to talk about this. Figure out a way to do this safe. Don’t go rushing off like this. Please! We have time to make a plan. We don’t have to rush this.”_ There was a pause and Gabriel swore he could feel the shaky breath that Sam took. When he spoke again, his words switched to Enochian and became a bit heavier. “ **Little brother, I do not want this, not at risk to you. I beg of you, please, come back.** ”

It was hard not to fly off at that heartfelt request and return back to Sam’s side. But, he couldn’t. _I failed you before, Luci. I won’t do it again._

Without waiting another moment, Gabriel took to the skies and set off for the one place he hadn’t seen in such a long time.

Home.

* * *

Time seemed to take forever to pass by. Sam sat anxiously in Bobby’s living room, pretending to read a book while really watching the clock go by. When he’d come back from his walk, ready to continue their conversation, he’d found only Bobby and Dean waiting for him. It’d been Bobby who’d explained where Gabriel had gone – and Dean who’d tried to calm Sam down as soon as Sam realized who it was that Gabriel was going to talk to.

The prayer he’d sent up had done nothing. Not that he’d thought it would. Gabriel was stubborn and headstrong. Once he set his mind to do something, he did it, and there was no way to stop him.

“You look like you’re about to glare a hole in the wall.” Dean said, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. They were the only two in the room – Bobby having headed downstairs to gather up any books that might have information on angels – and they were supposed to be reading up on some lore. Well, Dean was studying angels, really, and Sam was mostly correcting the book he had. There was a lot of wrong information. Looking up from his book, Sam found Dean watching him with veiled concern. His brother tried to offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Sam huffed out a heavy breath. “He’s an idiot.”

“He’s not gonna let someone come down here and get you, Sammy. Even if it did happen, they’re gonna have to get through me, first.”

“You think I’m worried about _me_?” Sam asked incredulously. The idea of that hadn’t even occurred to him. There was no room for concern for himself beyond all his worries for Gabriel. Sam shook his head and closed the book, setting it down on his lap. He wasn’t going to get any kind of reading done right now. “Dean, when we first came across Gabe, he was playing a trickster. Not just any trickster, but _Loki_ , an actual pagan god. Our family, they wouldn’t ever let him do something like that. Which means that he’s _hiding_ down here.” Very deliberately Sam avoided thinking about _why_ Gabriel would’ve come to earth to hide. “To try and help me, he’s going to blow the cover he’s had for who knows how long now. The fact that he was hiding out, especially as a pagan, isn’t going to go over well. The fact that he’s breaking that hiding to ask help for _me_?” There was no telling what Raphael would do.

Sam had no doubt it was Raphael that Gabriel was going to. There was no one else out there that knew grace better than he did. No one who would be better suited to a job like this.

“There’s not a single angel up there that’s going to be happy with the idea of even part of me being free.” Sam continued on in an aching voice. Memories pushed up, making his stomach swirl and his chest clench in an all-too-familiar sense of guilt and self-loathing. “I hurt so many of them. But their pain and their anger is going to be nothing compared to what Raphael feels. It’s like… like how angry Bobby would feel if I turned on you guys compared to how angry or betrayed _you’d_ feel. One isn’t _less_ than the other, per se, but one of them would definitely be _more_ , if that makes any sense.”

“Weirdly enough, it does.”

The idea of Raphael letting go of that kind of anger to actually help him, it seemed impossible. Why would he want to? Even if he believed Gabriel that the darker part of Lucifer was still down in the Cage – that the Mark wasn’t on him at the moment – it didn’t mean that he’d be willing to try and help. Lucifer – _Sam_ – had done so much harm back then. He’d hurt so many of his brothers and sisters.

A shudder ran through him as he looked down at his hands. His human hands, holding on to this book. These hands had never touched another angel to harm them. They’d never bled an angel’s vessel with the intent to kill them. They’d never gripped at the grace of a sibling and caused them harm. But underneath – there wasn’t enough grace for him to really show his true form. There wasn’t even enough grace for him to feel his wings, or any of his other limbs. All he could feel was enough of himself underneath the skin of this body to know that he _was_ an angel without having any of the perks of it. Sure, a few powers, but none of _himself._ Yet still, as he stared at his hands he felt almost like he could see that phantom blood bleeding through.

When Dean’s hand closed over his wrist, Sam jerked, almost pulling back from the touch. His increased strength, which he’d only just started to notice, almost succeeded in pulling him free, but Dean clamped down and kept him in place. Sam looked up and found Dean watching him with a steady look on his face. The two didn’t say anything; they didn’t need to. The look they shared said plenty, as did the squeeze that Dean gave before he let go. They would handle whatever happened, no matter what it was. Dean wasn’t going to go anywhere. Sam might’ve been abandoned by brothers in the past – that wasn’t going to happen with this one. Dean would stay with him no matter what.

* * *

Getting back into Heaven was easier than Gabriel had anticipated. He’d gone to the back entrance that, last he knew, only he and Lucifer knew about. It required him to leave his vessel behind in his little pocket dimension where he knew it’d be safe, but that was fine. Being free like that allowed him to fly easier – faster.

If humans were capable of perceiving an angel’s True Form, what they’d see was so far from what they’d imagined. Somehow through time humans had painted images of angels that were soft and sweet. They were always modeled after humans, of course, because humanity couldn’t imagine something that was created as other than them, and there _were_ elements of humans in there – but there was so much more.

Before humans, before animals, before earth itself, God had created His angels. The archangels came first, and because of that, they were different even than the rest of the angels. Archangels were God’s first attempt at making some form of life. They were the palette from which everything else was built. Animals, humans, all of it, they were all modeled after different parts of angels, different parts of God. Man was made in His Image, and humans took that literally, as in looking like Him. What it meant was more the image that He saw – what He imagined them all to be. Everything was built in His Image, as what He imagined them to be.

Gabriel had been made to fit the title and image of Messenger. He was smaller than the other three archangels, built for speed, and he was all whites and golds in a way that had inspired awe in so many, yet could turn to strike terror just as easily. He was God’s Messenger, and that message wasn’t always kind.

He was a creature of air and water, Lucifer had once said, and it fit. A long, slender body, with one pair of legs and yet two pairs of arms, he had the lighter build of a bird with the long, sinuous form of a sea serpent. Scales in all shades of gold ran down the outsides of his arms and legs. They marked his halo, too, scales and feathers sitting on his head like a crown instead of floating above him like humans imagined. It ran over his forehead above dark amber eyes that held a hawk-like quality to them, yet were bright with a laughter he was well known for. Long hair like liquid gold flowed down his back, ending just below the base of his bottom-most pair of wings.

As Gabriel landed in Heaven, he compacted his form down as small as he could, drawing in on himself as he watched and listened around him, waiting to see any signs that his arrival had been noticed. Only when he was sure no one was coming – and that he had his grace firmly masked – did he rise up from the ground. As he did, the dark blue robes he’d once worn so often settled easily around him, draping over one shoulder and twisting around him until they settled around his bare feet. They made not a sound as he slowly began to make his way down the hall in front of him.

His private entrance had brought him to a section of Heaven he’d once been in and out of quite often. The Library was here, as was an entrance to a garden – though not _the_ Garden. This was where Raphael had once spent so much time, studying and meditating, and it was where Gabriel had often run when he needed a break from everything else. He’d loved spending time there with Raphael going through the works of their Father, or spending time in the little patch of garden that they had once made their own.

As he made his way forward, his wings gave a twitch of surprise at the realization that he could feel only one grace ahead of him – and that it was the one grace he was here to find.

When Gabriel crept forward and peeked out the door to the garden, it wasn’t the familiar scenery that caught his gaze. No, it was the brother who was seated at a bench, staring at the plants and water in front of him.

In his brother, Gabriel could see hints of the bears that their Father had created. The larger size, not just tall but wide, that seemed big enough when he stood as he was and yet seemed so much more when he straightened up to his full height. Later on, as more angels were made, it became a sort of _thing_ with them, that you could tell bits of what an angel might be like by which animals you saw in them. Gabriel had always felt that held true for Raphael.

He was solid and steady as the earth, darker – dark greens and browns and blacks in his skin – than the rest of them and yet warmer somehow, with a deep energy that echoed around and through his grace and played in heavier notes in his voice. He didn’t have any fur like the bears of earth did, yet that didn’t take away from the image at all. With his size, as well as the three sets of arms that he possessed, being hugged by him was one of safest things that Gabriel could ever remember, bar the hold of their Father. He’d been wrapped in those arms many times, held close and safe. He’d sat against his brother’s legs and let those multiple hands work their way through his wings, claw-tipped fingers so delicate as they put every feather back in place or sought out injuries and worked their magic with a skill no other angel managed and yet planet tried to aspire to. He’d been wrapped inside of those electric wings and kept safe while their brothers fought on around them.

Raphael’s wings reminded Gabriel of electricity in some ways, only in shades of green instead of blue, with each feather charged with the power of the healer’s grace. Like electricity, that power in him could be harnessed for good or evil purposes, healing or fighting, yet Raphael had always chosen the path of healing.

Seeing him was like a solid hit to Gabriel. While Michael was the big brother they all looked up to, and Lucifer had been the one that Gabriel loved and needed, Raphael had been the one he’d leaned on. Michael and Lucifer, they were a fated pair, always going for and against one another, loving one another with a ferocity that could be as amazing as it was dangerous. To counter that, God had made Raphael and Gabriel, both of them lighter and calmer in their own ways, deeper even, to counter the brightness and ferocity of the first two. Because of that, they’d banded together. It’d been Raphael who had cared for Gabriel when he was foolish enough to get himself hurt. He’d been the one to teach him, to help him, to not only encourage him but help keep him in check.

They’d been so close.

And then Gabriel had left.

He couldn’t imagine what it’d done to Raphael to find him gone. His brother would be angry, he knew. He’d be hurt.

“ **Are you going to linger in the doorway all day, brother**?” Raphael called out, never once looking away from the water. “ **Or do you plan to bring yourself inside at some point? I confess myself curious**.”

He also apparently knew that Gabriel was here.

 _Well, it’s now or never. You came here with a purpose, - don’t forget that!_ With that reminder, the younger archangel slowly made his way into the room. “ **How did you know I was here?** ”

The sound Raphael made was one of amusement. He turned his head, dark brown hair shifting so that Gabriel caught a glimpse of the crown of vines that curled around Raphael’s head. Underneath were three sets of eyes, each in varying shades of green. There was nothing but warmth in them as they watched Gabriel come forward. “ **You think I cannot recognize your grace after all this time, little brother? Even shielded as you are, I know that feel. Besides,** ” He turned back to face the water once more and the amusement grew heavier in his tone. “ **I felt your entrance. Only you or Lucifer have ever used that door. With him locked away, there was only one other possibility.** ”

The fact that Raphael knew about the entrance had Gabriel shaking his head. _So much for secrets._ That was a question for later, though. For the moment Gabriel just made his way to the bench and then slowly sank down onto it. It felt – there weren’t words for what it felt like for Gabriel to be here, to be next to him. He could feel his brother’s grace in a way he hadn’t in so long. _Too long_. He wanted to reach out, to tuck himself in against his side and feel the curl of his older brother’s wings wrap around him. He wanted to lean against someone who might help carry the burdens he felt and share in the grief that sat inside of him. Just barely did he manage to hold himself back. Once, he would’ve taken that comfort without thought. Now, he knew he had a lot to answer for before he had that right.

“ **What do you need, Gabriel?** ”

The words weren’t asked in anger, or sarcasm, but in an honest desire to help. Gabriel turned his head to look at Raphael with open surprise. Of all the things he’d expected to hear first, that hadn’t been it. He couldn’t quite resist poking, either. “ **What, is that it? No ‘Gabriel, what happened to you?’ No, ‘How are you alive?’** ” He widened his eyes and raised his wings in the angelic equivalent of a human raising their eyebrow. “ **I expected a little more yelling, maybe some growling. You always gave the most impressive lectures.** ”

“ **That implies that I was unaware of the fact that you were alive.** ” Raphael turned to him and he fixed Gabriel with the kind of stare that had the younger archangel wanting to shift in place. “ **I have always known that you were alive, Gabriel. Just as I knew why you left us. What concerns me know is what has brought you home. The need must be great to have brought you back here. So I ask again – what do you need, brother**?”

Though Raphael might not have intended it, there was a very clear slap to the face in those words. The implication that nothing short of trouble would’ve been capable of bringing him home. The worst part was – he couldn’t quite deny it. If it weren’t for the trouble he was currently in, he had no idea if or when he ever would’ve come home. It was likely it would’ve happened one day. Staying away was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But then again, it might never have happened if things had gone according to the ‘Plan’. Lucifer would’ve been set free, Sam and Dean would’ve been vessels, and there was no telling who would’ve won or what would’ve been left behind.

The familiar shame in Gabriel’s grace grew heavier. He turned to look out at the water, folding his hands down into his lap and hunching in on himself slightly. He felt open – exposed. The last time he’d been like this had been when he’d left.

A soft gasp slipped past his lips as he felt the familiar presence of Raphael’s wings. He stretched out the ones nearest Gabriel and then curled them around him. Then he used that hold to draw Gabriel close enough that he could gather him up in his arms and bring him in just like he was still a tiny fledgling. “ **Never think for one second that I did not miss you.** ” That deep voice rumbled as he buried himself against Gabriel’s hair. “ **Am I angry with you? Yes. But I understand why it was that you left us. Better than any others, I understand how hurt you were, and I cannot blame you for trying to protect yourself.** ”

“ **I never meant to hurt you.** ” The words rang with a truth he knew Raphael would feel. Hurting him had never been Gabriel’s intention.

The wings around him tightened just a little more. “ **I know. Later, we will have words about running away, and about waiting so long before reaching out to me, even if you wanted your presence kept quiet from everyone else.** ” His statement was punctuated with a tug to his feathers and a tap to his forehead that had him huffing and fighting back a grin. Then he was being sat back just enough that Raphael could reach up one set of hands to cup his face and hold him there, making him feel even more like the fledgling he’d once been. “ **Now tell me, Gabriel – what has happened?** ”

In the fact of such open and honest love, how could Gabriel do anything else but respond in kind? He brought his hands up to curl over his brother’s arms and then he lifted his chin and, with his eyes firmly on Raphael’s face, the entire story came spilling out. From the instant he first met the Winchesters right up to the very last conversation he’d had with Bobby and Dean before flying here. As he spoke, he watched emotions travel through Raphael. Shock, confusion, horror, fear, anger, grief.

When he was done, Raphael was frozen, his hands still on Gabriel’s face. “ **Our brother walks free?** ”

“ **Not as you think**.” Gabriel hurried to say. He tightened his hold on Raphael’s arms. “ **Raphael, he is – he is our brother. The part that he ripped off and set free, it grew up as Sam Winchester. It grew up _good_. Healed. The next piece, it has merged back together with the first and it is just as good. This is not the Lucifer we all fear. He is our Heylel.** ” The distinction was one that only Michael and Raphael would understand. It wouldn’t make a difference to the other angels, but he knew it would here with Raphael. “ **I promise you, brother. I have seen him, touched his grace. That is our Heylel down there walking in a human body.** ”

The idea of it was enough to have Raphael shuddering. He slowly slid his hands down from Gabriel’s face. The younger archangel let him go, knowing that he needed a moment to settle himself, to process all of this. The idea that Lucifer was free was terrifying on its own. But to find out that it wasn’t ‘the devil’ that was walking the earth, but a brother who they had thought was lost – that was a lot to take in. “ **I knew it had changed him, but I…** ” Raphael trailed off, unable to find the words.

“ **You thought he was gone.** ” Gabriel filled in. His voice was gentle and just as aching as Raphael’s was. “ **You thought that our Heylel was lost under what She made him.** ”

Raphael’s eyes closed. “ **Yes.** ”

“ **We all did. There was nothing to suggest otherwise. And maybe – maybe back then there wasn’t. Maybe he had to go through this, break himself apart and grow up as Sam Winchester, to get a chance to heal and become himself again. We have no idea of knowing what our Father truly plans. All I know is that Heylel is down there and he needs our help.** ”

Now it was Gabriel’s turn to move. He slid himself down off the bench until he was on his knees before his brother. It was a pose that would’ve stunned anyone who’d gotten to know him these past few hundred years, and yet didn’t at all surprise the brother who had once known him so well. While _Loki_ wouldn’t dream of lowering himself in front of anyone, _Gabriel_ had never been afraid to do it. Kneeling there, he reached up and clasped a pair of Raphael’s hands, holding them in his. At the same time he spread his wings out wide and low behind him in an open plea for his big brother’s help. “ **Please, brother, I beg of you – just meet with him. That is all I ask. Meet with him and see for yourself that what I say is true.** ”

“ **Of course**.”

The ease with which Raphael said that had tension draining out of Gabriel. He slumped down, his body relaxing, and he bowed his head down to press against their joined hands. “ **Thank you**.” He stayed there for a moment before he straightened himself back up. He was smiling now – no, beaming. “ **Has anyone told you that you are the _best_ big brother?** ”

A hint of a smile touched Raphael’s lips. He reached out with a free hand and flicked a claw against the space between Gabriel’s eyes, making him jerk back. “ **And you are as much of a – what do humans call it again?** ” His smile grew just a bit wicked in that way that so few got to see. “ **A suck up. You are as much of a suck up as you always were, little brother.** ”

Laughter bubbled free. Who would’ve guessed that Raphael would know, let alone _use_ , a human term! Hearing it was enough to have the younger archangel shaking with laughter. When the sound died away and he looked up again at his brother’s face, he found Raphael watching him with a soft look on his face. He reached out a wing and stroked it over one of Gabriel’s. “ **I have missed that sound.** ”

Gabriel’s own smile gentled a little. He pushed his wing back up, letting theirs tangle together for a moment. “ **I promise not to stay away for so long again. Not from you, at least.** ” That was a promise he could make. He couldn’t promise to come home, or to deal with anyone else, but he could promise to visit Raphael again. Not just for Raphael, either, but for himself as well.

When Gabriel finally rose to his feet, Raphael rose with him. He was taller than Gabriel once they were standing, the top of Gabriel’s head reaching his shoulder, and it made for the best possible hug when Raphael held him close. When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. “ **I will go speak with the brothers.** ” Gabriel said. “ **It may take me time to get them to agree to meet, but I will let you know as soon as I do**.”

“ **Move fast, brother**.” Raphael warned him.

Curiosity had Gabriel tilting his head and lifting a wing. There was more to that than simple impatience. “ **Why**?” He saw that Raphael was hesitating and he reached out to tug at one of his feathers. “ **Do not hold out on me now, Raphael. There is something you are not telling me here. What is going on?** ”

After only a brief pause, Raphael’s shoulders slumped a bit. “ **The First Seal is broken. Forces were dispatched only hours ago to retrieve the Righteous Man from Hell. It is why I was in here,** ” He lifted a hand to gesture to the garden around them. “ **I sought answers to questions I had. Little did I know the form my answers would come in.** ”

Gabriel stared up at him with a growing sense of horror. If the First Seal had already broken – that meant John Winchester had broken. _It’s going to break Sam and Dean’s hearts_ , he thought to himself. Worse than that, though, this put them on a terrifying timeline. Because with the breaking of the first seal, there were plenty who were going to be vying for the breaking of the rest. Sure, Lucifer’s Cage couldn’t be opened without them breaking the last Seal, but Gabriel wouldn’t put it past either Heaven or Hell to find a way to manipulate Sam into doing it.

Worse than all of that, though, was the fact that this meant that angels were going to be watching now. More so than they had been before. They were going to be looking at Sam and Dean. All it would take was one look at Sam and they’d be able to see the grace inside of him. See just who he was.

This – this was terrible news. Everything that he’d been planning on doing here, their timeline had just been vastly sped up. They couldn’t afford to waste a minute. They needed to figure out what they were going to do, and figure out some way to hide Sam so that no one would know what was going on until they were sure if their plan was going to work.

So many questions and worries cropped up and Gabriel felt for a moment like he was drowning under them.

It was Raphael’s hands that helped to steady him. They gripped Gabriel and held him upright when his legs were shaking underneath him. “ **We will figure it out, little one.** ” Raphael’s deep voice carried the sound of a promise that Gabriel knew he meant. “ **I will help you. Whatever happens, you are not alone anymore.** ”


	15. Chapter 15

It took two days for Gabriel to find his way back to the Winchester. Fifty-two hours. Sam had counted each one of them as he’d waited impatiently for his brother to return. Waiting wasn’t easy for him. Though he’d always had patience as Sam Winchester – thought not a lot, admittedly – he’d learned quite a bit of patience as Lucifer. Time in the Cage taught you patience. But it also taught you fear. Fear of what could happen in those hours. So short, yet so long. Fear of what might happen when the hours were over. A fear of just, so much.

The time wasn’t wasted while they were waiting. Though they stayed inside the property, under the wards, by a unanimous decision, they didn’t waste their time together. Even if they were just doing simple things, just eating and talking and researching, it did wonders for them. No matter how accepting his family had been, finding out who Sam really was had been one hell of a shock. Something that would only be gotten over with time. This little break, fraught with tension though it was, gave them that time. With each pasting hour that they spent together, Sam could see it as both Dean and Bobby relaxed a little more and a little more. Being around Sam allowed them to see that he was still the same guy he’d always been no matter how different the insides were. He was still the quiet one, still the one who loved to research and read. He still loved his eggs scrambled with what Dean considered too much pepper and not enough salt. He still liked his coffee sweet – ‘girly’, as Dean would say.

But it also allowed them to see the few things that were different too, and start making their way towards acceptance.

This version of Sam was much more musical than before. He was often humming to himself, or tapping out a beat with fingers or feet. It was enough that Dean commented on it during the second day – _thirty nine hours._ “Dude, what’s with the music?”

“What?” Sam had asked, pausing in correction the book in front of him – the Bible, which had amused the hell out of Bobby and made Dean give him a skeptical look.

Dean lifted a hand from his book – ‘A study in Angelology’ – and waved towards Sam’s tapping foot. “The tapping, the humming. You’ve barely stopped since you started reading.”

Having Dean mention it brought it to Sam’s attention. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Now that it was pointed out to him, he caught the faint edge of the tune he’d been tapping out. It was an old tribal song from a group of people who weren’t even around anymore. Some things had still reached him in the Cage, despite the tight seal of it. Music had been one of those. “Oh.” Looking up, he gave a crooked smile, a hint of a dimple showing through. “Sorry. I’ve always been sort of, musical.” According to his family, his grace had even carried a hint of a song. Gabriel used to tell him that listening to it was a great way to gauge his moods. “A lot of the lore calls me the archangel of music, and it’s not wrong. Music was one of the things I was responsible for helping start. My grace usually has music in it. I guess since I can’t manifest like that, my body’s taking over for me.”

“Your grace had music in it?” The way Dean said that, slow and a bit lilted towards the end, made it into a question instead of a statement. It was clear he didn’t understand. There was a _lot_ they didn’t understand.

Sam didn’t mind explaining it, though. Or, as best as he could. “Yeah. Look, I know you guys sort of think of our grace like our bodies, like human bodies, but they’re not. They exist on so many more levels than that. I mean, yeah, our True Forms have a physical shape up there, but they’re… layered.” He stumbled over his words a bit as he tried to think of how to put into words something that had always just _been_ for him. “Mine carried music to it. Gabe always said that being around me, he didn’t just hear music, he felt it. Raphael – he has this, this _aura_ I guess you’d call it, kind of like a warm blanket. This feeling of strength and safety and solidness, like the earth. Mi—My oldest brother…” he couldn’t bring himself to say his name, could barely stand to think about him, “…was like a storm. Sometimes you got impressions of the wind when he laughed, or this sort of… smell. Like an open field. When he was angry…” When he was angry, it was like you heard the sound of war behind him, the clash of swords, the smell of something your brain labeled as _threat_ and _power._

He let out a shaky breath, pushing those memories back, and focus instead on the ones he loved more. Ones that never failed to make him smile. “Gabriel was, he was like Dad’s oceans. Sometimes he’d reach out to you and you could feel the water curling up around you, lapping at the edges, warm and inviting and just, _amazing_. When he was angry, there was the crash of the waves, the fury of a hurricane riding in him.” Because of that, Sam had always loved the oceans. Even as a human he’d carried a love of the ocean, though he hadn’t even known why anymore.

Thinking about that had brought Sam’s mind back to Gabriel, back to Raphael, and right back to the waiting. As if sensing that, Dean had tried to tease him out of it, but when it was apparent that wasn’t working he went back to the tried and true Winchester method – offering comfort with presence alone, words not really a necessity between them.

By the time that Sam finally felt something catch on the edge of his awareness, which he was getting better about sensing as his grace started to heal more, he was about out of his mind with worry. Feeling Gabriel was enough to have his head shooting up. In turn, Dean and Bobby both looked up as well, just in time to see Gabriel land on the counter right next to where Sam stood getting himself a glass of water.

The first thing Sam did was run his eyes over Gabriel to make sure that he was physically intact and okay.

The second thing he did was smash his mug over his little brother’s head.

“You’re a dick.” Sam snarled out in Gabriel’s surprised face. Water dripped down from Gabriel’s hair and he was just sort of gaping at Sam. Temper had Sam leaning in so he could get right in Gabriel’s face as he snapped, “ _Fifty-two hours_ , Gabriel. You were gone for fifty-two hours!”

“It took a little longer than I thought…”

A furious hiss from Sam cut off Gabriel’s protests. Uncaring about the two men watching on, Sam let out the fear and anger that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time he’d been waiting. “You shouldn’t have been there to begin with! Do you have _any_ idea how much I’ve been freaking out down here? You went and made a unilateral decision to go and reveal my presence to Raphael, not even bothering to freaking ask me if I was okay with him knowing, or what I wanted to do, like it’s not _my life_ that’s at risk here, and then I don’t hear from you for _fifty-two hours_.”

The expression on Gabriel’s face melted into one of guilt the more that Sam spoke. When he finished, the younger archangel reached out, not touching Sam but catching hold of his sleeve instead and curling his fingers in there in a way that reminded Sam of how Gabriel would occasionally twist his fingers into his older brother’s feathers. “I’m sorry.” He said softly. Then he repeated it, putting more emotion into the words. “ **I am sorry, brother. I was not thinking, and I should have been.** ”

“You’re damn right you should’ve been.” Still, it was hard to hang on to his anger when Gabriel looked so apologetic. While Dean often commented on Sam’s ‘stupid puppy eyes’, Sam privately thought that they couldn’t hold anything against the sad pout that Gabriel could get. Was it just a skill of younger brothers to be able to come up with those kinds of expressions to get themselves out of trouble? Sam sighed and shook his head. “You’re at least all right, aren’t you? Nothing – nothing bad happened?” _Please, Dad, let nothing bad have happened because of this._

Gabriel quickly shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. We’re fine.” Then he surprised Sam by reaching out to him and taking hold of both his hands. Their eyes locked and Gabriel’s expression was both serious and earnest. “I should’ve asked you before risking your life like that, Sam. This is your life and your grace. I shouldn’t have made decisions about it without talking to you. I… it’s been a long time since I’ve had to think about anyone else.”

The truth of that was enough to calm the sharper edge of Sam’s temper. He knew they were true; it was part of why he’d managed to keep as calm as he had so far. He couldn’t deny it had bothered him, though. This was his grace they were talking about _mutilating_ just to keep the Mark locked away. Granted, it sounded like an amazing plan, one that might actually work, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they were talking about carving off however much of his grace necessary to lock away the Mark in the Cage without him. That was something he should be able to give at least an opinion on before they went talking to the doctor about doing it.

He could see in Gabriel’s eyes that he understood all of that. He knew what he’d done wrong and he was honest in his apology for it. That was all Sam could really ask for. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” Gabriel said quickly.

Sam nodded his head. Then he drew in a deep breath and tried to prepare himself for whatever came next. Just because Gabriel was unharmed didn’t mean they were going to be perfectly okay. Maybe Raphael had kicked him out. Maybe Gabriel was running. Maybe – maybe Raphael had just been uninterested, uncaring about their lost brother.

Before Sam could really work himself up, Dean stepped forward and, with his usual bluntness, asked the question they were all thinking. “So, you gonna leave us in suspense or what? How’d it go?”

The slow smile that curved over Gabriel’s lips was enough to drain away a good chunk of the tension in Sam’s body. That was a real smile. It wasn’t a fake one meant to reassure all of them or convince them of whatever bullshit lies he was about to spout. That was his real, relaxed smile. “You doubted me, Deano? I’m hurt!” Gabriel exclaimed, hand over his heart. Then he turned to look at Sam and he was practically beaming. “I’ve got someone at my place who wants to speak with you, kiddo.”

Sam couldn't help how he tensed at that. Not even Gabriel’s smile was enough to ease him. There was no doubt in his mind that it was going to be safe to go. Gabriel wouldn’t take him into a trap, and he wasn’t going to just simply trust Raphael’s word that he meant no harm. But going out there to speak with the other archangel – the idea was a bit terrifying. Especially since Sam knew he was essentially powerless. Despite how much he’d head from what he’d done to himself, he wasn’t better yet, not by a long shot, and he didn’t exactly have access to all his powers. Even if he did, his powers at, what, a quarter strength, that wouldn’t stand up to Raphael.

Still, he had to go. He knew he had to go.

He just hadn’t anticipated Dean’s reaction – though he should have.

“How soon are we leaving?” The older Winchester asked.

Sam turned to look at him with surprise. It was kind of comforting to see that Bobby had the same expression of surprise. At least he understood what was going on here. Sam should’ve figured that Dean wouldn’t. Holding a hand out to Gabriel to keep him quiet, Sam looked right at his brother and tried to brace for the fight that was about to happen as he said, “You can’t come with me, Dean.”

“Why the hell not?” Dean immediately demanded.

“Because…” Because he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. Because he didn’t want Dean caught in the crossfire if things went terribly wrong. Because he wanted to keep him safe. All of these things danced around Sam’s head and yet he couldn’t make them pass his lips. None of them would be acceptable reasons in Dean’s mind. “Because this is going to involve a lot of grace related things and I’d rather not have your eyes burnt out.”

That was something that Dean couldn’t argue and they all knew it. That didn’t mean he was just going to let Sam go, though. Not without spending twenty minutes making sure Gabriel knew just what would happen to him if any harm came to Sam. To Sam’s surprise, Gabriel stood there and nodded along with it all, never once stopping him. He just let Dean threaten him and nodded his agreement to it all like it was no big deal. It wasn’t until after they left – after tight hugs and whispered threats _“You better take care of yourself, bitch, and get back here quick”_ – that Gabriel explained to him “It was the least I could do. He’s just worried about you, bro. I can respect that.”

Flying with Gabriel was something that Sam both wanted and yet didn’t want to have to ever experience again. He felt the absence of his wings all the more keenly afterwards. It hit him, like a punch right to the gut, and he had to clutch briefly at Gabriel’s arm as the muscles in his back quivered in an effort to use parts of him that just weren’t there. Son of a bitch, he’d missed flying so much! Just that brief taste there was amazing, and yet not enough. It wasn’t the same to be flown by someone else. He wanted to stretch his wings and take to the sky and just – _fly_.

Gabriel seemed to understand. He stood there and let Sam gather his bearings.

Then the presence of grace touched Sam’s senses and he found his hand clenching tighter as his head shot up and he caught sight of his brother for the first time in far, far too long. Raphael stood on the opposite end of this rather empty looking living room, his one hand braced on the door, the other holding on to a long, tall staff that Sam knew was made from the wood of a Tree in the Garden, with a dark green stone at the top that the wood curled around. Father himself had brought the staff and blessed it before giving it to his Healer. It looked almost, smaller, somehow, in the great big hand that held it.

The first glimpse of Raphael’s vessel was enough to have Sam wanting to let out a laugh that probably would’ve come out a bit too hysterical for his liking. A sound of amused surprise still slid past his lips despite his best efforts. Gabriel grinned broadly beside him and nodded. “I know, right?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vessel more accurately represent the angel inside.” Sam said slowly.

In their True Forms, Sam and Raphael were close in height, though Sam was just the slightest bit taller. He’d been the tallest of them all. Now? Raphael’s vessel was a few inches taller than Sam - just enough to make him tilt his head a bit. That wasn’t something that he was used to. However, the sheer _size_ of him made him appear even taller. His vessel wasn’t fat by any means; he just carried muscle and a natural size that made him appear so much larger. He was dark skinned, which just felt right to Sam, and his face bore the lines of someone who had spent their life smiling. He had no hair, not on his head or on his face, and he was dressed in a black shirt and dark blue jeans. All in all, this vessel really suited Raphael, which made this whole moment all the more surreal.

The two stood there staring at one another for a long moment. Then Raphael smiled and took a step forward. The sensation of his grace grew stronger as it poured into the room. Sam’s human nose caught a faint hint of the earth; he felt a low presence of something that screamed safety. Once, it would’ve had him stepping forward, reaching out to his brother. Now? Now, he flinched back, and his whole body shifted into a defensive posture, arms loose and ready at his side, angel blade just waiting to drop into existence in his palm. “ **Stay back**.”

Ice crept into his veins, freezing over anything and everything. What made him Sam took a backseat as the part of him that was Lucifer came forward, the part of him that had been trapped for so damn long because none of his family had been able to help him. He’d tried asking for help before and he’d been cast down. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short! Hopefully the next will be longer!

It’d been a long time since Raphael had walked the earth in a vessel. For the most part he’d always preferred to stay up in Heaven instead of traveling down here amongst the humans. Not to say that he didn’t like earth – he did! And he had spent time here in the past. His preference had just always been for home. For his own body. Sharing a body with someone, taking over a vessel, had always felt strange to him. To compact and confine himself inside of a small space, one that was already occupied – it had never quite felt right.

At least this time around, his True Vessel wasn’t technically alive. The body was, yes, but the soul inside had long since moved on to Heaven. That meant that Raphael only had to go and speak with the soul inside of its Heaven, gain permission to enter that body, and then he was free to head down to earth.  Once Raphael was in his vessel, Gabriel had taken a moment to make sure the medical staff forgot about the body of the man who’d been lying with them for months now. Then they went to Gabriel’s human home before Gabriel headed off to get Lucifer.

He’d tried to warn Raphael before he left that he might not like what he saw. No amount of words could’ve prepared the healer for the sight that met him when he stepped into the room and saw his older brother’s grace.

It took everything Raphael had not to let out a pained cry. He saw past the vessel and right down to the broken grace inside. Every inch of his own grace was screaming at him to reach out and fix this. To make it better. Because Lucifer had to be in absolute agony at the moment. His grace was – it was _shredded_. Raphael could clearly see the tears where it’d been ripped off from the whole. Though the two pieces were trying to fuse back together, it was a slow and no doubt painful process. Especially since it was clear the pieces of grace were pushing against the vessel, seeking out the rest of itself, and they were being thwarted over and over again.

He barely listened as Lucifer and Gabriel commented on his vessel. It wasn’t until he took a step forward – he couldn’t stand there any longer, he _needed_ to help! – and Lucifer fell back into a defensive crouch, snarling out “ **Stay back!** ” that Raphael finally focused again.

The coldness in Lucifer’s eyes was more like the brother that he had seen at the end. Even as he saw it, recognized the threat written there, he watched with stunned surprise as it faded away. In its place came something else that made Raphael’s grace ache – sorrow. A sorrow that held ages worth of pain and grief to it. It only hurt all the more when Raphael realized that there was no song to accompany it. No music brushing against his grace to back the emotion inside of his brother. “I’m sorry.” Lucifer said slowly, two words that Raphael had never thought to hear pass his lips again. Once, he’d been prideful, yes, but he’d admitted easily when he was wrong. Then pride had gotten the better of him and he’d never admitted to it again. Yet here he was now, saying those words so softly.

Raphael’s wings trembled with the urge to reach out. He held them back only through sheer force of will. Much as he wanted to believe – much as his eyes would tell him that he should believe – he couldn’t trust blindly. He held himself back. “For what?”

“Everything.” Lucifer said. He was looking at Raphael now with so much joy and so much sorrow on his face. If he’d had his wings, they would’ve been down and drooping. It reached out, touching the other archangels that watched him.

Then, in a move that stunned them all, their Light bringer, their Morningstar, walked forward until he was just a few feet away from Raphael and then he sank down to his knees before him and he bowed his head down low. “ **Brother**.” There was a tremble to that word that made Raphael’s entire being quiver in return. “ **There are no words for the things I have done. I do not deserve your understanding, nor your forgiveness. I can only apologize for the pain that I have caused, inadequate though the words may be, and hope that one day you might see the truth in them.** ”

At the same time that he spoke, he did something that made clear just how true his words were. With his head bowed, Lucifer let go of the iron control he’d had over himself, the shields that he’d kept in place, and he let his grace run free through his body – free, and open to anything. Raphael could’ve struck in that moment and taken his brother down without Lucifer being able to stop him. He was open and vulnerable in front of the healer at that moment. Offering himself up for whatever punishment they deemed worthy.

Off to the side, Gabriel made a pained sound, and Raphael saw as he lifted a hand like he was going to reach out for them. Only a small shake of the head stopped him.

Between Gabriel’s testimony and what Raphael could see here in front of him, there was no way that he could deny the truth. Grief filled him, even as his grace became awash with so much love. Love for a brother who he had once looked up to. A brother that he had failed.

“ **Heylel**.” Raphael sank down to his knees as well until he was right in front of his brother. It felt more right like this. More normal. Lucifer wasn’t meant to bow to him. “ **Your words are more than enough for me. I can feel the truth singing inside your grace. I only hope that you can feel the sincerity of my apology as well.** ”

Lucifer’s eyes shot up with surprise to latch on to Raphael’s face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do.” Raphael said gently, switching to English as well. He reached up and, after only a second of hesitation, let his hand curl over Lucifer’s cheek. “When it comes to harming our family, we’re all just as guilty as you are, Heylel. We were blind. We let ourselves forget who you were before the Mark was placed on you. I think perhaps we wanted to forget. I didn’t want to think of you being buried underneath all of that. It was easier to believe that the brother I knew was gone, buried under Her influence. I’m so sorry.”

A gentle smile touched Lucifer’s lips. It softened his face and showed a faint hint of dimples. The color changing eyes – so like his True Form – shifted to something a bit darker, a bit more green. “I’ve told you before, you can’t hold yourself responsible for everything. You’re not Dad – it’s not your job to see it all. All you can do is do your best, little cub. No one can ask anything more from you.”

Somehow their positions seemed to shift a little. The serious healer gave way to a broken little brother facing a brother he had always loved and had feared was lost. Lucifer curled his hand over Raphael’s neck and he was drawing him in, and the younger archangel curled up against his brother. Long arms wrapped around him and pulled him in close.

Despite the size of his vessel, he found himself cradled close, much like the fledgling he’d once been. In that moment it didn’t matter that Raphael was whole and Lucifer was broken and so damn _human_. There was still the same sense of strength and security that Raphael had felt once upon a time when he’d been young and scared of the fights between their Father and their Aunt.

Lucifer had held him then, much as he was holding him now, arms and wings around Raphael, who had been curled around Gabriel in turn. They’d stayed together, safe away from the noise, with Lucifer’s wings and music holding them safe, while Michael stood watch nearby to make sure the fight didn’t make its way to them. He’d watched over them often, trying to be the perfect son, keep his siblings safe the way their Father had wanted him to. But it’d been Lucifer who had often stepped up – Lucifer who’d ran his mouth, drawn the attention his way, taking the brunt of Her anger when she’d lash out at them. Lucifer was the one who carried scars on his wings from Her, the very first injury Raphael had ever tried to heal and which had spurred him on to learn so much more about the healing arts.

One of the arms around Raphael shifted and he broke out of his memories to hear the rumble of his brother’s voice, both amused and yet so patient. “ **Get over here, Gabriel.** ”

There was a soft huff of laughter from behind him, yet also the sound of footsteps shuffling forward just moments before a warm weight dropped down beside him and curled in as well. “You do realize how much Deano would be laughing at us if we’d actually brought him with us.”

“Good thing he’s not here then.” Lucifer said dryly.

Thinking of Dean Winchester – Michael’s True Vessel – was enough to remind Raphael of Michael, of his oldest brother, and that was enough to have him pulling back slightly. Much as he would have loved to stay like this, they weren’t fledglings anymore and they couldn’t hide from the world under Lucifer’s feathers. He was down here for a purpose and it was one he needed to fulfill before Michael or anyone else realized that he was gone. Little by little Heaven’s Healer gathered together the control that he’d learned and he drew it about himself until he could once more sit back on his heels and meet Lucifer’s eyes. The understanding and compassion in them was almost his undoing. “You’ve grown.” Lucifer said softly.

“It’s been a long time.”

Raphael hadn’t meant the words to hurt, yet he saw Lucifer flinch from them.

A pained look crossed the face of Gabriel’s vessel. He reached out with one hand like he was going to clasp Lucifer’s shoulder, murmuring a low “Luci”, only to have the older archangel actually pull away from him. Lucifer shook his head at them both. “No, no. He’s right. It’s been a very long time. There’s plenty I’ve missed out on and we can’t just tiptoe around that. All we can do is try and be better in the future, right?”

The words were wise – much wiser than Raphael would’ve credited him with. He watched Lucifer carefully for a moment before he returned his words to him. “You’ve grown.”

“Living as a human will do that to you.” Lucifer said.

Hearing him speak so easily of being human was surprising. The way he said it, it was as if it were not big deal, like he wasn’t at all bothered by the fact that he’d lived a human life, or that he was _still_ human. It was enough to make Raphael wonder, yet not enough to make him actually question. He wanted to hold off on any and all of his questions for now. They’d wasted so much time already and there was still plenty to do. He needed to look at the grace Lucifer had here, see if it was clean, and see about healing the damage that was visible without them even touching. Then they needed to talk, find out as much as he could about the state of Lucifer’s grace in the Cage, find out if there really was the possibility of being able to cut off an infection chunk and heal the rest. If they got all of it away from the area the Mark was branded to, they might be able to heal the rest of it. After that, they had to talk about what Lucifer planned on doing with his grace, about the Apocalypse, and about what was already going on.

He must not have been the only one thinking that way. Gabriel met his eye and gave a small nod. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Raphael looked at Lucifer, met his calm, grace-filled stare, and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. But if he did it right, maybe he would finally be able to bring his brother home. That was worth any risk they were about to take.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, reviews are golden and they help fuel the writer!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @thequeervet :)


End file.
